Sansker 2200 # 1
by bcampo
Summary: Vampire John Sansker is being stalked by someone who knows all of his secrets.
1. A snake in the Grass part one

Sansker 2200

#1

By [Brian Campo][1] ( bcampo@hotmail.com )   


Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction**. Sansker and all Spawn related characters are owned by Todd McFarlane productions and I do not contest that ownership. This story is in no way official, and should be taken as seriously as kids playing Spawn in their backyards. Please, do not sue me, I am hardly worth it :) 

Warning: This story contains harsh language and **EXTREMELY ** graphic violence. If you are easily offended, or think your mom might drop a load of hurt on you for reading this, don't. Consider yourself warned. 

The wind came roaring down out of the Romanian highlands, shoving before it one of the nastiest snowstorms that the country had seen in years. Snow was piling up in drifts that covered the highways running through the valleys, and snow plows were running in twenty four hour shifts to keep things moving. All the roads leading up to the various residences on the mountain had been closed a week back, and at this point, even helicopters could not fly in. 

In what seemed to be utter insanity, a lone dark figure hiked their way up through the passes. The person was wrapped in multiple layers of snow suits and carrying a pack of equipment on their back. This was not hiking weather, and had this person not been who they were, they would have long since curled up and died, perhaps to be found in the spring thaw. However, they were who they were, and they trudged on, oblivious of the bitter cold and the stinging wind. 

The hiker reached a high peak and stopped to get their bearings. A pair of binoculars were pulled from the backpack and were used to scan the surrounding country side. Half way up the next mountain, lights could be seen shining in the darkness. The figure returned the binoculars to the pack and sniffed at the wind. There was the almost indescernable scent of smoke. Someone was home at that castle, and they had the fire place ablaze. 

With a little jump, the hiker hefted the heavy pack farther up on their shoulders and started down the mountain at the same steady pace. 

The dogs that had been cringing in fear next to Alden Raspin since the blizzard had started nearly a week ago suddenly stirred and jumped to their feet. They crept to the window and looked out into the driving snow, turning their heads this way and that, as if they were hearing something. 

Alden sat the book he was reading on the table next to him and went over by his dogs. He patted them on the head, and tried to see what they were looking for. It was no use. It was all blackness and dizzying streaks of white out there. 

"What do you hear, Fezza?" The big Dane looked at him for a second and gave him the cross between a grunt and a whine. "It's ok," he said. "Probably just the wind you heard." 

It didn't occur to him that these dogs had been listening to the wind for a week and they hadn't reacted like this before. 

"Are you hungry?" asked Alden. "Come, I will have Pietr pull out some steaks for you." 

He left the reading room with the four dogs tailing him closely. His path took him out of his reading room and passed various bedrooms and offices. The halls he walked down were decorated with very old paintings and tapestries. There were suits of armor standing at each corner. At the end of the hall there was a landing and a long winding staircase that brought him to the ground floor of the castle. He continued on his way to the kitchen, the dogs close behind. 

Through one of the doorways he passed he saw men lounging around a large bunk room, playing cards, reading books, and watching television that was coming through by satellite. Every time the wind would blow, the signal would go fuzzy and one of the men sitting next to the television would kick it. Each man had a machine gun sitting within arms reach. 

He shook his head as he walked away from them. Kasner, or whatever it was he called himself these days, had insisted on him allowing the guards to stay here in the next coming weeks. Kasner said that he didn't want to have to worry about Raspin while he was he was making big move. 

Still, twenty five men had seemed excessive. It was either that or five vampires, Kasner had said. Kasner knew how he felt about having other vampires around. 

They had covered their tracks well, and there was little or no chance of anyone connecting him and Kasner, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Alden would have felt a lot better if it was really his well-being that Kasner was interested in, not covering his own ass. 

And then there was the matter of the crates sitting in the dungeons below the castle. 

Pietr greeted him when he entered the kitchen and Alden returned in kind. 

"Would you be so kind as to pull some steaks for the dogs? They're fidgety." 

The chef nodded and opened one of the massive walk in refrigerators to get the meat. 

There was a loud banging sound from the ceiling and Alden jumped. The dogs forgot the promised meat and looked up, growling. Alden stared at the ceiling for a couple of seconds more, but there was just silence. 

He turned and walked back down the hall to the bunk room. The men looked up when he entered the room. A few sat their cards down on the table. 

"I believe that the wind has knocked a window open upstairs, would one of you be so kind as to go shut it?" Everyone looked at each other and finally one soldier named Frank Lane started to get up. 

"Just a second, Frank." said one of the card players. "I'll come with you. This game has gone to shit anyway." 

He started toward the door but Frank stopped him. "Your gun, Chucky." 

"Shit, like I'll need it." He grabbed the rifle and followed Frank out in to the hall.   
  


The old man was right, thought Frank. There was definitely a breeze running through the house. They ascended the stair case and walked out onto the landing above. Frank looked up and down the hall, trying to decide where the breeze was coming from. One of the guest bedrooms in the east wing, he decided. 

Chuck leaned over the edge of the banister and whistled at the distance to the floor below. "I wonder why this Raspin guy needs a bunch of grunts like us around if he's some kind of vampire. Can't they do all kinds of crazy shit like shape shift into monsters and walk through walls?" 

"That shit is just a bunch of myths." said Frank. "Haven't you read Kasner's book? He says that Vampires are pretty much the same as humans. All that other bullshit was made up by humans to legitimize the whole sale slaughter of his people." 

He started down the hall toward the east wing and Chuckie tagged along behind. 

"All I know," he said. "is that every vampire movie I ever saw, the dude could turn into a bat and shit." 

"Well, this ain't a movie. This is real life. If it was a movie, we sure as hell wouldn't be coming up here alone because there would sure as shit be some monster up here waiting to take our heads off." 

Chuckie thought about that and agreed. "This Kasner guy. You sound like you like him or something." 

"I respect him, that's for sure. It isn't the man's fault that he was born a creature of the night. As far as I can see, he's been doing nothing but good. He's just trying to take care of his own kind. You gotta respect him for that." "Yeah, well, he gives me the willies." 

Up ahead, the wind gusted and a door slammed. Frank walked to the door and opened it. A window was open alright. A tree from up the hill behind the castle had cracked under the weight of the wind and snow. It had fallen through the window, knocking snow and broken glass all over the floor inside. 

"What a mess." he said, wandering into the room to get a better look at the damage. That was when he saw something under neath the branches of the tree. He pushed them back and saw two snow suits and an empty hiking pack. 

"What the hell?" he said, spinning around and bringing up his gun. "Chuckie, look out!" 

Chuckie, who was leaning against the door way, looked up to see what Frank had seen. Someone was standing on the thin ledge atop the door frame, holding themselves against the wall by holding on to a knife that they had driven in to it. 

Frank could not get a good look at the intruder in the dim room. He saw the person's arm come up and then the first of four shots rang out. 

By the time shot number two went off, he was already jumping for the downed tree. He felt one of the bullets smack into his thigh and he stumbled the last few steps to cover. Chuckie had jumped out into the hallway with a string of curses. 

The figure above the door dove forward, did a twist in the air and landed in the light of the open doorway, facing out into the hall. The gun, a pistol, went off again and Chuckie was thrown against the wall. He slid down, leaving a long bloody streak. 

Frank raised himself from behind the tree with rifle ready, just in time to see the figure disappear through the doorway. In the distance, he could hear the shouts of the men downstairs responding to the sound of gunfire. He limped through the doorway, cringing with each step. He stepped out as quickly as he could, sweeping his rifle left and right. The figure had just hit the stair case. Frank squeezed off a couple of rounds, but he knew he would miss. The intruder was extremely fast. 

Shots erupted from the staircase as the first of the soldiers met with the intruder. There were shouts of pain and curses of surprise as they were shot down in a rapid burst of gunfire. Frank reached the banister in time to see the intruder go over the railing a little ways down, dropping the twenty five feet to the granite floor below. Dead and dying littered the stairway. 

Holding onto the railing, Frank eased himself from step to step as quickly as he possibly could. Four steps from the top he saw a spent clip for an automatic pistol. He was negotiating the stairs well except when he got near the bottom he tripped and fell the last few steps to the floor. Fighting dizziness and nausea, he pushed himself to his feet, using his gun as a crutch. Multiple guns went off at the same time, machine guns, and that pistol the intruder was carrying that Frank had decided might be a Walther. Only now it sounded like they were firing off two Walthers. 

The sounds of battle were coming out of the bunk room, he realized. He remembered that half the men in that room had been snoozing in their beds when he had left the room. They would have been caught by surprise, with little or no chance against their attacker. 

He reached the door to the bunk room and grabbed the jam. He let his weight hang off one hand as he swung through the doorway looking for a target. The intruder had shot out the lights, and he knew they had been wearing black. He couldn't see a damn thing in there. 

He lowered himself into a one legged crouch still hanging from the doorjam. He scanned the room for movement, slowly sweeping the gun's barrel back and forth. From somewhere across the room, he heard someone whisper, "Did someone get that bitch?" A gun fired and he heard the same voice grunt in pain. 

Frank rolled back out the door, moving right, against the wall. The intruder was a woman? 

Suddenly he realized that his wounded leg was still sticking out in front of the open door, marking his location. He grabbed the pant leg and jerked on the leg that now felt like so much dead meat. Too late, a booted foot snaked out and stepped on the leg, pinning it to the floor. He cried out in agony as the woman in black stepped through the door way and put three rounds in him. Two in the head, one in the heart.   
  


In the kitchen, Alden, Pietr, and the dogs were all packed into the walk-in freezer. They had heard the last few gunshots a couple of minutes ago and had crowded themselves into the closest hiding place. Now, they crouched behind some racks of beef with bated breath, hoping that the killer would not realize they were there. 

There was the sound of one of the refrigerators being opened and one of the dobermans started to growl. Alden grabbed him by the snout just in time to stifle a full fledged bark. One of the other dog's hackles rose as footsteps started their way and its chest rumbled. Alden grabbed at its snout too. A dog behind him gave a high nervous whine and Pietr tried to grab his snout. It turned on him, snarling. 

A face appeared in the small window on the freezer door and Alden's jaw dropped to the bottom floor. 

"Red?" he asked incredulously. 

She smiled warmly and they hear the rasp of the pin being slid into the lock.   
  


It was six hours later by Alden's watch when he started to look at his companions. Pietr was looking at the cold meat hanging from the ceiling. He was trying to figure out how he was going to thaw it enough for him to eat. Alden watched him, his eyes drifting down to the gentle pulsing he could see clearly on the man's throat. He was getting very hungry. 

He looked at the dogs that were huddled in one corner. They were looking at him and Pietr with the same look. 

Nancy Holden turned toward the camera with the red light glowing and put on a happy face. She took a deep breath and started the show. 

"Hello, I am Nancy Holden. Today's date is June 6th, 2200 and you are watching Global Review. Tonight we have a very special guest. As the president and owner of multibillion dollar Kasner industries and leader of what many have called the Vampire Nation, Jan (pronounced yon) Kasner is without a doubt one of the most powerful people in the world. He is hailed as a savior by the millions of people who have benefited from Kasner Inc medical research, but he is proclaimed to be an abomination in the eyes of god by millions of people through out the world. Most recently, he penned an autobiographical book titled, "Coming into the light: The Jan Kasner story". Ladies and gentleman, in his first ever interview, I am proud to introduce, Mr. Jan Kasner." 

Nancy turned toward the curtains and told herself once again that this was just another interview. She didn't have to like him, she just had to get his story. The curtains parted and out walked what appeared to be the perfect human. Jan Kasner was nearly six and a half feet tall, with dark copper skin and close cropped hair. He wore a loose fitting charcoal suit that bulged enticingly in all the right places. He turned to the crowd and gave them one of his broad p.r. grins and gave them a little wave. She noted that he seemed to get bigger the closer he got. His physical presence was over whelming. 

Jan reached out and took the hand she offered him in a solid embrace. She hoped that he would not notice her involuntary recoil at his touch. He leaned down and whispered in to her ear. 

"Thank you for doing this, Miss Holden." 

"My pleasure." she lied and indicated a chair for him to sit in. 

A man stood up in the crowd and screamed, "You fuckin' blood sucker!!!" Guards raced to grab him and he yelled obscenities as he was dragged from the studio. A censor was clicking away on his keyboard, removing the words in the three-second delay broadcast. 

Jan watched as the man was dragged from the room, a sad look on his face. When the protestor was gone, he sat in the offered chair and crossed one leg over the other. Nancy made her way back to her own chair and took a second to situate herself. 

"I'm so glad you could join us tonight, Mr. Kasner. The world has so may questions about you." 

"Well, thank you, Nancy. Hopefully, I can answer some of those questions tonight, and maybe put a few rumors to rest and better yet, put a few hearts at ease." 

He had a very strange accent, european, but not any definite country. It was very soothing, and his words just seemed to flow flawlessly from his mouth. It reminded her faintly of an actor from the late twentieth century. She couldn't remember the name but she knew he had played James Bond. 

"So you are willing to answer some touchy questions tonight?" 

"Ma'am, my life is an open book, and I have nothing to hide." He reached over and patted the hand she had sitting on her desk soothingly. She successfully resisted the urge to flinch. "Well," she said, withdrawing her hand discreetly into her lap. "perhaps we could start by discussing your recent takeover of Hong Kong." 

"Yes. Despite what many have heard, Kasner industries purchased Hong Kong in a legitimate business deal. Why I did it is simple. I am sick of my people living in fear of the human race, and I am giving them a place where they can live in peace, without fear of persecution, or worse yet, genocide." 

"By your people, you mean vampires, right?" 

"We prefer the term supernaturally anemic person, or S.A.P.s, actually. But yes, they are my people, and I have dedicated my life to defending them. We don't choose to be what we are." 

"But you do understand why there is reason for the human population to fear "your people". You live on blood. Most often human. "Your people" have been killing humans for thousands of years." 

"First of all, we don't live on human blood. Kasner has made deals with American cattle industries to supply us with the excess blood from their slaughter houses. Rumors that we are feeding on the blood of humans are entirely false. 

As for what my people may have done in the past, I'm sure they did what they had to do at the time to survive. Percentage wise, I'm sure that the amount of humans that have died at the hands of S.A.P.s is vastly outnumbered by the number of S.A.P.s killed by humans. At the end of the twentieth century, we were pushed nearly to the brink of extinction. We have always done the same thing that your kind have. We did what we had to do to survive. Sometimes, those things weren't pleasant. That's what we are trying to change. We are doing our best to conform to your rules. We are ready to take our place in the world." 

"Have you ever drank human blood, Mr. Kasner?" 

"No, ma'am, and neither do any of the people living in Hong Kong. It is against our law, which is enforced. In fact, I would venture to say that more humans pretending to be S.A.P.s have drank human blood then our kind ever have." 

"Would you mind answering some personal questions?" 

He sat forward in his chair and said, "Of course not." 

"How old are you, exactly?" 

"I will be one hundred and eight years old in November. Still a youngin' by our standards." There was that grin again and Nancy caught a flash of extended canines. She noticed that he was very careful when he smiled, very conscientious of his teeth and very careful not to smile too big. 

"Do you have a wife, any children?" 

Suddenly, he looked very sad. "I was married once, but I'm afraid that my wife took her own life. This was eighty three years ago. Very few of our kind are able to have children and usually those who can, can only have them when one of the parents are human. As both my wife and I were S.A.P.s, there was no way we could ever have any. I'm afraid that it was just too heart breaking for her. She committed suicide by sunlight." 

His voice started to crack a little, and he had to stop to regain his composure. When he had pulled himself together, he said, "I'm sorry about that. It still hurts after all these years." 

Nancy handed him a tissue and he dabbed at his eyes with it. She couldn't help but notice the little streaks of red on the tissue when he pulled it away from his eyes. 

"Thank you, Miss Holden. If nothing else came of my wife's death, Kasner inc has been working on many medical research projects that benefit S.A.P.s and humans alike. We were the ones that finally found the cure to that hideous disease, A.I.D.S.. We've developed sunblocks that prevent skin cancer due to sunlight one hundred percent. In the next few months, we may be able to unveil a treatment that will give hope to childless couples." 

The director was waving for Nancy to wrap it up, so she posed her last question to him. 

"Is there anything you would like to let the world know while you have this chance?" 

He thought for a moment and said, "I would just like to let the world know that they have nothing to fear from us. We only want what you want, peace and security. And finally, I would like to let those like me know that I have made a place for you, where you don't have to live in fear. Hong Kong has been declared sanctuary for you." 

"Thank you, Mr. Kasner. I hope that you will come back sometime." 

The crowd began to applaud and Jan stood up to bow for them. He gave Nancy the slightest peck of a kiss on her cheek and walked off stage and through the curtains.   
  


The roar of the applause still ringing in his sensitive ears, the man now known as Jan Kasner exited the stage. His chest swelled with pride to the point where he was afraid it might burst. His dreams of leading the vampire nation were finally seeing light. Hong Kong was his and soon, vampires from all around the world would be flocking to his haven. He had accomplished what many before him had failed at, and not through slaughter and war, but through little white lies and subtle manipulation. Ok, maybe a little slaughter. 

Waiting for him on the other side of the curtain were five of his most trusted body guards, vampires all. Or S.A.P.s, he thought with a grin. Man, did he have a gift for bullshit. The saps where the people that believed twenty percent of what he had said out there. 

"Great show, Mr. Kasner. You knocked 'em dead." said Andrew, a young looking man that Jan had given the sacred bite twenty years before. 

"Andrew," he whispered in reply. "we don't operate like that anymore." He gave Andrew a playful slug in the shoulder that made him take a couple of stumbling steps backward. 

"I gotta tell you, boys. I feel good. I feel like doing a little hunting. What time is it in the Serengeti?" 

Carl, a vampire who looked to be about forty but was closer to three hundred, looked at his watch. "It's about seven there. If we leave now, we'll get there a little after sunset." 

"Very good. Mark, Andrew. You two take the lead on the way out. Remember, don't kill anyone unless you absolutely have to." 

The five vampires surrounded him and they started toward the elevator that would take them to the roof. The elevator doors opened before they could get to them and out stepped a group of men in suits. There were nine of them all together. 

Andrew was reaching into his jacket casually when four of the men in the other group did the same and whipped out pistols. The man in front, who was a good fifty pounds over weight and had white, thinning hair, flashed a badge at them. 

"United Nations, war crime department, Mr. Kasner. We need to have a few words with you." 

Kasner put a hand on Andrew's shoulder, stopping him from pulling his gun. "What about?" 

"Perhaps you should call a lawyer, Mr. Kasner."   
  


An hour later they were all gathered around a meeting table in the law offices of Feldin, Moore, and O'Neill. Kasner's attorney, Jacob Moore, was looking over some paperwork that the UN officials had brought with them. 

The top ranking official, who had introduced himself as George McBean, slid some photographs across the table to Kasner. 

"Do you know a Mr. Alden Raspin?" he asked. 

Kasner looked at the pictures, not letting his face betray a thing. "I've met way too many people in my career to keep track of them. Should I know him?" 

"Mr. Raspin was killed two weeks ago at his home in Romania. His body, along with those of twenty six other men, was found yesterday by highway maintenance workers who were clearing roads to the house. The killers were apparently there to obtain files out of Raspin's computers and file cabinets. There also seemed to be something missing from his collection of ancient weapons. A lot of the files that the killers went through, which were left sitting open on a desk, pertained to you." 

Jacob Moore snorted in contempt. "Mr. Kasner is a well known man who owns hundreds of companies. I'm sure many people are maintaining files on him. What has this got to do with war crimes? Mr. Kasner has never been involved in a war." 

"It's interesting that you should say that. Along with all these files, we also secured these photographs, which we found to be of interest." 

He slid the file across the table to Kasner and his lawyer. Jan opened it up and felt his stomach drop in to his feet. They were black and white photos of Kasner and Raspin, standing in a Nazi death camp. He had one arm around Raspin's shoulders and a broad grin. Both wore SS uniforms. 

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" said Mr. Moore. "My client was not even alive when these pictures were taken. He wasn't even born for another hundred and forty years. These are obviously fakes, or else that was just someone that looked like him." 

"Yes, it's true that there were plenty of blond haired, blue eyed men in germany in those days. The man in the picture is named John Sansker. An amazing resemblance in both name and appearance to Mr. Jan Kasner, don't you think?" 

"We have records for Mr. Kasner. Birth records that say he wasn't even alive when that picture was taken." 

"Yes." said McBean. "We would like to see those records." 

Kasner just kept staring at the picture like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. How could Alden have been so stupid as to have stuff like this sitting around his house? 

Jacob, seeing that he wasn't going to be any help, attempted to bring these talks to a close. 

"Is there anything else?" he asked. "Otherwise, Mr. Kasner is a very busy man." 

"Actually," said a younger man standing by the window. "there is something else." 

He held out his hand from across the table, which went unshaken. 

"I'm Mark Tyler, I'm a United Nations inspector for weapons of mass destruction. When our men were investigating the Nazi connection to Mr. Raspin, they happened upon a bunch of these in the dungeons below the castle." He held up a picture of some silver, metal canisters with valves sticking out the top. "They contain some kind of chemical, which we have tested in a closed environment on animals. Apparently, it is some kind of new nerve toxin that does not kill, but instead causes severe brain damage to anyone who breathes it. It would leave them in a drooling catatonic state, like an alztheimer's patient." 

"Or like cattle." said McBean. 

"Just imagine the damage that could be done with this stuff if it were to be unleashed on a densely populated area like New York." said Tyler. 

"Or China." said McBean. 

"What does this have to do with my client?" asked Moore. 

"Nothing directly. Don Chemical, the company that mixed the stuff, is not owned by Mr. Kasner. However, Don was under contract to make this stuff by Herald Inc. which is owned by Kasner Industries. Don said that they were told that the mix was a pesticide." 

"Do you have any enemies, Mr. Kasner. Anyone that might want to soil your reputation?" 

Jan gave them a how-can-you-be-so-stupid? look.   
  


In the hallway several minutes later, Jan was slumped against the wall. 

"What the hell is going on?" he asked, still dazed that he had lost so much ground in one afternoon. This morning, he had been doing so well. Hell, this morning he had been Martin Luther King Jr., now he was Hitler. 

"Jan, don't worry about it." said Moore. "These goons got dick on you. It's all circumstantial. Hell, you could even say that the chemicals were being still being tested as a pesticide. The worse they can do is fine you for improper storage. We can cook up a story about the pictures, say that it's your great great grandfather or something and you've dedicated your life to righting his wrongs. Point is, you're not going to jail or anything." 

"They said they want to inspect all my companies." 

"Let them try. We'll pull a Hussein on them and it will take years before they can even get into the lobbies." 

"What was that about some antique they said was stolen? Somebody breaks in, kills twenty-six men, leaves incriminating files about me laying all over and then stops to take a trinket on the way out?" 

Jacob flipped through his papers. "Um, it says here that it was something called, "The Spear of Destiny". At least that's what the plate on the broken display case said. Ever hear of it?" 

Jan faintly remembered Alden telling him something about it, a little after world war two. It had been one of Hitler's little treasures that Raspin had stolen when the reich was falling. Alden had said that it was just a fortune telling devise, but Sansker had thought that he was lying at the time. 

"I'm not sure what it was. Can you have someone look into it? How is all this going to look to the press?" asked Jan. 

"I called your best people and they are working a spin story. Look, there's nothing you can do here. Why don't you get going and I'll take care of everything? The boys said you were going for a hunt. If you leave now, you still got plenty of time." 

"Yeah," said Kasner. "A hunt might do me good. Let me work out some of this frustration." 

"Good help the creature that gets in your way. Go. Get out."   
  


Kasner and company walked out into the high noon sun and blinked their eyes in the brightness. Kasner's sunblock was working like a charm, he didn't feel the least bit of discomfort from the sun's rays. 

A crowd of reporters that had been waiting for him outside turned to him all at once and rushed toward him. 

The words, "There he is!" swept back and forth through the crowd and cameras started flashing left and right. Stay calm, he told himself, he had come too far to lose it all because he had lost control and gutted an annoying reporter. 

He put on a smile and followed his men through the thick of it. The press of bodies around him was oppressive, and he fought his old urges. His sensitive nostrils were assaulted by a multitude of scents, sixteen different types of cologne, sweat, a variety of deodorants, and above everything else, he could tell that one of the female reporters was menstruating. He zeroed in on her, ten feet away, jumping up and down behind some other reporters, trying to yell a question to him above the crowd. 

"What did the UN want with you, Kasner?" screamed someone. 

"Will the vampire nation become a true country?" 

He ignored them, and stayed close to his men, who surrounded him. Ahead of him, Andrew grabbed an overzealous camera man by the face and tossed him backward into his companions. Good, thought Jan, he's taking it easy on them. 

Thankfully, he could see that they were getting close to their transport. It sat in the parking lot, looking like the cross between a space shuttle and a harrier jet, and was painted a dull black. Frederick, the sixth Vampire guard he had brought with him on the trip, was standing beneath the hull of the ship with a cattle prod in one hand and a sawed-off shotgun in the other. When he saw that Jan and the others were coming, he punched some keys on a keypad next to the ship's closed hatch. The door opened with a hiss and a small set of stairs descended for them to enter the ship. 

When they reached the doorway, Andrew and Mark each stepped aside to give him room to pass. When he had gone by, they slipped in behind him, ascending the little set of stairs backward so that they could cover his back. They were followed into the ship by Carl, Scott, and Rex. Frederick was the last to board the transport, and they shut the door behind him. 

"Thank you, gentlemen." said John Sansker, weary, but happy at last not to have to be playing that pussified Kasner character anymore. "You did an excellent job. I'm positively dying of thirst. Perhaps you would join me in a drink?" 

He opened a small refrigerator and withdrew a wine bottle filled with a very dark, red liquid. He popped the cork off and inhaled the aroma. 

"Cow's blood, indeed." he said with a chuckle. He scooped some wine glasses off their racks next to the fridge and began handing them out. 

The transport's engines began to start up, they were a low whining sound that was quickly gaining in volume. There was a slight jerk as the craft lifted off from the parking lot and turned east. 

Jan filled each of his men's glasses and then his own. He tipped the glass back far and drank deeply. 

Feeling a little better, he said, "I wish Raspin was still alive, cause I'd kill him. What the hell was he thinking, leaving all that shit around his house? When you leave behind a name you burn all the old stuff, that's how it's done. You don't keep momentoes." 

"Must have been a good crew that did the job." said Carl. "Took out twenty eight men." 

"I could have left five vampires there and Alden would still be alive. He was always so paranoid that other vampires were out to get him that he wouldn't hear of it. And now he's dead." 

"How you want to handle all this shit, boss?" asked Andrew. 

"I'll worry about it later. Right now I want to put something breathing between my hands and make it stop." He always thought that the vampire eat vampire world he had lived in before was stressful. It had nothing on the nerve racking world of politics. 

They rest of them drank deeply, emptying their glasses. Carl savored his for a moment and then said, "Hey, what is that? Korean?" 

"No," said Sansker. "It's chinese."   
  


In the night, the plains of the serengeti are alive with the sounds of predators and their victims. There is the occasional cackle of a hyena who has managed to steal a scrap from a rotting carcass, or there is the ball shriveling roar of the lion who has chased the hyena off. 

In the plains, there are scattered water holes and here is where the majority of the killing is done in the night. The lions know that the plant eaters must come here to drink, and that they can be ambushed here. The hyenas know that if they are quick enough, they can steal quick bites of the carcasses that the lions are feeding on before the lion snaps it's back with one powerful swipe of it's paw. 

It is a dangerous place to be, but Sansker felt at home. He was crouched among the reeds next to the water, poised on the balls of his feet and the tips of his fingers. His ears were twitching, picking up details of the hunt that even his night vision could not see. He was aware of the crackling of the mud that he had wiped all over himself earlier to cover his scent. It was drying and starting to fall off in little flakes every time he breathed. He was aware of the soft creaking of the leather jock strap that was his only apparel. He was aware that there was a zebra drinking on the other side of the hole, only fifteen feet away. 

His nose told him that the zebra was a male, and it was old enough to have been breeding recently. 

The muscles in his legs and forearms tightened as he prepared himself for the leap that would clear the water hole. There was a crunch of grass behind him and Sansker rolled to the side, just in time. The male lion that landed where he had been only a second before would have crushed his spine. 

He was on his feet in a second, going into a defensive crouch as the lion recovered from its near miss. Across the water, the zebra took off at a gallop, scared by the sound of the lion's attack. Sansker cursed and decided he would just have to kill the lion. He would have rather tried to match his speed against that of the zebra, but you had to take what you got. 

The lion let loose with a roar that was meant to freeze Sansker in his tracks, but Sansker was all to familiar with scare tactics. He jumped at the lion before it could get fully into its jump, bowling it over onto its back. He planted one foot on its rib cage and thrust himself into the air, clearing the swinging range of the lion's talons not a moment too soon. He landed in the reeds on the other side of the lion and quickly dropped out of sight. The lion got to its feet again and scanned the vicinity for him. 

Sansker pulled one hand close to his chest and flexed it. Two inch long claws burst from his fingertips. He decided that he would just tear its heart out, a nice clean puncture that would leave the skin in good enough shape to hang on his wall at home. He tensed for his next jump. A blinding light suddenly turned the darkness into day. The lion bolted and disappeared into the surrounding darkness. 

Sansker looked up to see the transport shining it's spotlight on him. It lowered to the ground, the turbines turning the water hole into a fine spray. Light burst from the side of the ship as the door opened to reveal Frederick. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to see you until dawn." 

"I'm sorry, sir." said Frederick. "It's very important. I'm afraid that your building in Washington DC has been attacked. It's bad, sir."   
  


The ship was headed at full thrust for Washington when Sansker stepped out of the shower. He threw his towel on the bed and picked a pair of boxers from the clothes laid out for him on the bed. 

"Ok, what do we know?" he asked. 

"Not much." said Carl. "Washington police answered a burglar alarm an hour ago. It's mid afternoon there. Every body in the facility was dead, human and vampire alike. That's all I know now. The police said there were more than thirty bodies all together." 

Sansker cinched his belt and said, "I don't understand, why was the burglar alarm on? It's the middle of the day." 

"Maybe the killers turned it on. Maybe they wanted the bodies found." 

From his medicine cabinet, Sansker pulled out a tube of sun block which he began to rub all over his head and face. When he was finished he covered his hands with it. It left him with a very life like, even tan. 

He was pulling on his shoes when the transport slowed down to land atop the Kasner Industries building in Washington DC. He checked himself one last time in the mirror before following his men out into the bright sunlight. 

A police officer was waiting for them on the roof. 

"Hello, Mr. Kasner. I'm glad you could make it on such short notice." 

"Of course, officer . . . ?" 

"Brady, sir. Now if you'll just follow me." He lead them through the doors to the building's stairwells. "I'm afraid the elevators were damaged in the attack. We've been getting our exercise running up and down these stairs today." 

They went down a couple of flights and then the officer opened a door that Sansker realized went to his private offices and suites. 

"The attackers got in here?" he asked, obviously concerned. 

"It almost seems that getting in here was the point of this whole mess. We were hoping you might be able to shed a little light on all this." 

He threw open the door that lead into a large dining room that Jan Kasner used to entertain clients. The stench of blood hit Sansker and his body guards before they could even get through the door. He pushed down a guttural growl that popped up the back of his throat and entered the room. 

The room had been redecorated in red. Blood covered everything. There was something very big hanging from the chandelier, and it took him a moment to get what it was. 

"Anna." he said in a hoarse whisper. "Son of a bitch." 

Anna was his pet anaconda that he had raised from an egg. She was one of only five in the whole world. 

The snake had been gutted and split from head to the tip of it's tail. Then all forty-five of it's feet had been slung over the chandelier. 

"What kind of sadistic bastards would kill my snake?" Sansker wondered aloud. 

Officer Brady lead them to the far end of the dining room where a sheet had been hung over one portion of the wall. He grabbed one corner of it and pulled it back so that they could get a good view. 

"Any idea what this means?" he asked. 

Smeared in the blood on the wall, someone had written this short note: 

Dear Sansker,   
You weren't here, so I killed the snake that was. I'll meet you back at the snake pit. Officers, I left some of the parts you're missing in some file cabinets of Mr. Sansker's. Sounds like probable cause, doesn't it?   
  


It was signed: Liber   
  


Sansker's lips twitched. He fought the urge to let them curl back to reveal his fangs. It was a full minute before he realized he was feeling intense pain. He looked down at his hands and noticed that they were clenched into tight fists. He had popped his claws without realizing it and they were poking through the back of his hands. 

"Son of a bitch." he said and withdrew his claws. 

To be continued . . . 

So what do you think so far? If you have any comments or curse words, write me at bcampo@hotmail.com I welcome all commetn and r complaints, I just ask that if you tell me that I suck, you tell me why I suck or I'll never learn Nuthin' ! If you liked this story, you will probably like my others. Look for them at [Bad Monkey Comics!!!][2]

   [1]: mailto:bcampo@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo



	2. a snake in the grass part two

Sansker: 2200

Part 2   


By [Brian Campo][1] ( bcampo@hotmail.com ) 

Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction**. Sansker and all Spawn related characters are owned by Todd McFarlane productions and I do not contest that ownership. This story is in no way official, and should be taken as seriously as kids playing Spawn in their backyards. Please, do not sue me, I am hardly worth it :) 

Warning: This story contains harsh language and **EXTREMELY ** graphic violence. If you are easily offended, or think your mom might drop a load of hurt on you for reading this, don't. Consider yourself warned. 

Sansker felt like he had been hit with a hammer. His face was slack, and his eyes just stared dead ahead. He could feel the world he had worked so hard to build crumbling and falling out between his fingers. 

Seeing that he was in distress, Carl grabbed him by the arm and began to lead him out of the room. When they went into the stairwell, they could hear voices coming up from down below. After a moment, men came marching up the stairs, some carrying guns, others carrying equipment. It was the UN weapons investigators. Sansker heard a little moaning sound and realized that it was himself that was making it. 

"Hello, Mr. Sansker. I mean Kasner." said Tyler, chuckling at his faux pas. "I hear you're having a little trouble today." 

It was all Carl could do to keep John from jumping at the men. Carl tugged and pulled and Sansker allowed himself to be drug up the stairs to the roof. 

"Ok, here's what I'm going to do." said Carl. "I'm going to go back in and get a copy of the security tapes. Ask a few questions. I'll be right back. Please, John. Don't get into any trouble. Just go sit on the transport until I get back." He turned and headed back toward the stairs. "It wouldn't hurt if you gave Jacob Moore a call." he called over his shoulder. 

Sansker walked onto the transport and flopped down in a chair. 

What the hell was going on? he asked himself. Someone had a real mad on for him, that was for damn sure. Who would be so angry as to kill all these people just to get at him? Maybe it was some kind of human liberation front or something, the kind of group like the old kkk, only against vampires instead of blacks. That might explain the "Liber" thing. He was already sick of this game, he knew that. They were keeping him running in circles, staying out of his reach. If he could only get his hands on them, it would be a whole other story. Sansker was very hands on type of person. 

Twenty minutes later, Carl returned with the rest of Sansker's men. He didn't have any good news. 

"They won't let me have a copy of the security tape, but they let me have a look at it. You couldn't see the killer or killers." 

Sansker shook his head and said, "How could they not be caught on camera? There are camera's all over that building." 

"It was a vampire that did it, John. We could see the victims being slaughtered, but we couldn't see the attacker." 

"That doesn't make any sense. Why the hell would a vampire want to kill me? I've been doing nothing but good for them." 

"That's what I hope we can figure out." He turned to Andrew and said, "I want you to get on the net and start looking for anything that has to do with this "Liber" thing. Anything. Where are we headed, John?" 

"The Snake Pit." said Sansker. "Hong Kong." 

Carl nodded and went to tell the pilot.   
  


"Ok, here's what I got." said Andrew. He turned the monitor on the computer toward them so they could see the screen. "There were lots of revolutionary groups that used "Liber" for their slogan. America during the nineteen sixties, spain during the twenty twenties, tons more. There's also some mythology stuff. Liber was apparently some roman goddess or something. In twenty one forty there was a car company that made a vehicle called the Liber. It was a lemon, as I understand it." 

"Nothing recent?" asked Carl. 

"Nope." said Andrew, clicking off the screen. 

"A lot of good that did." said Sansker, and he sat back to look out the window. 

"Don't worry." said Carl. "We'll find out who is doing this and we'll grease them like a dry whore. That's all there is to it." 

Sansker suddenly brightened up. "My political career is over isn't it, Carl?" 

"Yeah." said Carl hesitantly. "I think they're going to keep digging now that they have your real name. Pretty soon, they're going to find out about your monster hunting career you had back in the nineteen hundreds. Your name's pretty much ruined." 

"So, if I were to get really nasty in this fight, I really couldn't hurt myself any more than has already been done?" 

"I think that would be safe to assume." 

Sansker sat back in his chair and stared out the window. For the first time in a long time, Sansker felt a smile on his face, and it felt real.   
  


The transport cut across Hong Kong's largest harbor and angled in to land on the Kasner industries building. It was a twenty story skyscraper that thrust up out of the middle of the city, dwarfing the other buildings around it. 

Hong Kong was still very dark. It was very early morning here, and the sun was still a couple of hours away. Sansker looked out the window as they flew over the city, watching all the people that crowded the streets below. He knew that at this point, a good portion of them were vampires. Vampires who would soon be chased back into hiding because of what someone had done to him. 

The high whine of the engines slowed to a low rumble and the transport began to lower toward the rooftop. Carl and his men were making last minute checks on the automatic weapons they were carrying, getting ready for whatever might be waiting for them in the Kasner building. Minutes later, when the engines were cycling down, Carl lead them out onto the roof, his gun held at his shoulder as he swept the roof for attackers. The rest of the men scattered across the roof, checking behind ledges and communications equipment. When they had satisfied themselves that the roof was clear of any danger, they returned to get Sansker out of the plane. 

He followed them out, telling them what he wanted done in the next couple of hours. Andrew was to start asking around the vampire dives in the city for anybody who had been looking for Sansker. Carl would be working with Sansker's lawyers and accountants to cover any connections there might be between Kasner industries and any of the smaller businesses he owned. They might be able to shield some of the other businesses Sansker owned from scrutiny and this whole mess might not be a total loss. Sansker also wanted all of Kasner's accounts dumped into various banks around the world under pseudonyms. This all came very easily to Sansker. He had had to change identities many times over the last millineum. It was just that he had never had so much to lose before. 

A faint voice pulled his attention away from his instructions. He paused in midsentence, trying to tell what direction the shouting was coming from. His men trailed behind him with guns raised as he walked to the edge of the roof. He looked down at the next building over and he could see a woman jumping up and down, waving her arms. It sounded like she was yelling his name. 

"What the hell?" said Carl, who was sighting the woman through the scope on his rifle. "Oh, shit." he said. "Do you know who that looks like?" 

The woman in question stopped yelling and jumping and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a little square box that Sansker thought looked like a cellular phone. She made a big show out of dialing the number and putting the phone to her ear. She reminded Sansker of some absurd mime. 

A cell phone rang. 

Sansker and his men checked their pockets, but their phones were silent. They spun in circles, homing in on where the ringing was coming from. The sound seemed to be coming from an air conditioning vent that was sticking from the roof. Andrew was closing in on it with rifle ready when the phone rang the fourth time. There was a faint clicking sound and the roof exploded. 

A huge fire ball ripped out of the floor, blowing Andrew into ash in the blink of an eye. Sansker felt himself freeze, and he realized that he had fallen for a lion's trick for the first time in his life. The woman below had simply roared, freezing him in his tracks. 

More explosions tore across the roof in all directions. One went off right under the transport, and the plane was thrown into the air and into their direction. Sansker felt hands grab him and he was tackled over the edge of the roof. The transport came flipping over them a fraction of a second later, wings snapping off and spinning away. 

Sansker waved his arms frantically in the open space and hooked a hand on a fire escape. He grabbed hold and swung in toward the building, just in time to see the burning transport go falling past him to the ground 200 hundred feet below. He looked down and through the roaring fire, he could see Carl falling with the transport. He had thrown himself in front of the wreckage so that he could get Sansker out of the way. 

"That bitch!" he said, twisting to get a look at the woman on the other building. He reached up with his other hand and pulled himself up onto the fire escape. He turned toward the building she had been on and saw her waving at him. She turned and skipped gayly away. 

He let out a roar of rage and jumped from the fire escape. Waves of heat blasted up around him as he flew over the burning transport. His leap took him all the way across the street and crashing through the windows on the opposite building. Sansker rolled to his feet and found himself in a room full of little cubicle separated offices. He brushed the glass out of his hair and started looking for a stairwell. 

A humming noise caught his attention. An elevator. He followed his ears and found the doors just as the car passed his floor. He grabbed the double doors and pulled them apart. The car was already descending rapidly down the hole when he stuck his head in for a look. Without a second thought, he jumped off the ledge and dropped down the shaft after it. 

He landed on the roof of the elevator with a thump, and the car swung wildly on it's cable. His claws tore easily through the elevator's roof and seconds later he shoved his head in to the car. It was completely empty. 

"What the hell?" 

The sound of the world's longest zipper came from above his head and he looked up in time to catch a spiked boot in the side of the head. The woman had slid down the elevator cable, using the spear she carried to brace against the cable and slow her descent. She was still going fast enough when she kicked him to knock him down through the hole he had made. He got only the briefest glimpse of her before he fell into the elevator car. 

The wind was knocked from him a moment later when he landed on his back. He was wheezing and struggling to his feet when his attacker joined him in the car. She dropped down next to him with cat like grace. 

He finally managed to suck in a breath, and turned to defend himself. Recognition dawned on his face just before her first punch landed. He fell back away from her, arms waving to keep his balance. He stopped himself from falling and using the wall as a brace, he launched himself back at her with a snarl. 

"What's wrong?" she said, ducking under his attack and drilling him in the chest three times with her fists. "Aren't you happy to see your little girl?" 

He drove his knee up, catching her in the ribs and slamming her into the wall. He knocked the spear out of her hand and tried to get a clear shot at her with his claws. She was a ball of lightning below him, her quick jabs sending shockwaves of pain through his body. 

Behind him, the door pinged and started to open. He felt her get a foot against his stomach and was thrown forcefully from the elevator. The car had stopped at the bottom floor and he was thrown out into a lobby of some sort. He landed on a coffee table, which turned to splinters under his weight. 

She was out after him in a flash. She had retrieved her spear and now that she had room to move, she was swinging it at him in deadly arcs. 

Sansker grabbed a couch and threw it at her. She jumped over it and it smashed into the wall behind her. Her spear thrust forward and across his chest. It dug deep and took a chunk of flesh with it. He gasped aloud, equally from pain and surprise. 

Sansker staggered away from her, one hand clenched over his chest. He stared in amazement at the blood on his hand when he pulled it away from the wound. 

"What the hell have you done, you little bitch?" 

"Oh, this is just a little toy I picked up from your good friend, Alden Raspin." She hefted the spear up so he could get a good look at it's heavy, iron head. 

"It's called the Spear of Destiny. It was used to administer the Coup de Grace to Jesus Christ. Naturally, it's very effective on our kind." 

Sansker turned and began to run. She followed behind him, chuckling at the funny way he ran. It did look strange. Like a man who was trying to run with his pants around his ankles. He stumbled, tripped and fell behind a counter that was covered with computers and printers. 

The woman jumped across the room and landed on the counter above him. "You're not running out on me already, are you? I've been planning all this for such a long time." 

A scale covered hand flashed up from behind the counter and latched onto her throat. In a voice that sounded painful to use, Sansker said, "Well, then I wouldn't want to disappoint you. Come on down, honey. It's time for a family chat" He jerked her down behind the counter with him. Her eyes went wide with horror. Sansker had transformed into his snake form, and she screamed as his forty foot tail began to wrap around her. 

He ignored her shouts and punches as he wrapped coil after coil of his long snake like body around her, tightening his muscles and constricting on her. 

"I can't believe you're still pissed after all of this time." he said. The blond hair on his head was fading into the brown, scaly skin of his snake form, and his head was flattening and stretching out. "I mean, for christ sake, it's been eighty years!" 

Another coil covered her head and she disappeared completely from sight. 

"It's good that we have this time to talk." said Sansker. "I've been getting the feeling for a long time that you have some hostility toward me. I think I first noticed it when you wore white to Isabella and I's wedding. That was just plain rude." 

He could feel her struggling within the confines of his coiled tail. He laughed at her, his laughter the cross between a cough and a bark. 

"You should have just left me alone, Persephone. There was plenty of room in the world for both of us. But you just couldn't let it go." 

Her movements were getting weaker. 

"If it will make you feel any better, you were always right about me. I was marrying her for her title. And I had always intended to kill her." 

He felt her move quickly and then he saw her arm thrust out from between two of the layers of his tail. Grasped in her hand, she held a hand grenade. She pulled out the pin with her thumb and dropped the grenade. 

"Oh, shit." he said as she pulled her arm back into the cocoon of his body. He was to wound up to even move. 

The grenade went off, injecting shrapnel into Sansker's exposed flesh. He hissed horribly and fell over. Racked with pain, his body involuntarily uncoiled and Persephone fell from his grasp. 

They both lay on the ground, wheezing, her from suffocation and being crushed, him from his painful wounds. There are times he decided, that he would rather die of a wound than be forced to endure it until his vampiric powers could heal it. 

Persephone grabbed the counter above her head and pulled herself to her feet. She swayed uncertainly, like her legs were sore pushed to hold her up. She must have decided that she didn't have enough fight left in her to continue the fight, because she walked over, picked up her spear, and disappeared down a hallway. 

After a couple of minutes, the pain had subsided enough that Sansker could concentrate on turning back into his human form. He didn't mind admitting, he felt like he had been wrung through the wringer. There were a couple large pieces of his clothes that had been shredded when he turned into the snake, so he strung them together and tied them around his waist. 

"Damn." he said, looking down. "That was a nice suit, too." 

Outside, he was surprised to see Carl sitting in the middle of the street pulling pieces of glass out of his flesh, other wise unharmed. He looked up when he saw Sansker exit the building. 

"Was that who I think it was?" he asked. 

"Yeah." said Sansker. "Same old bitch with the same old gripe. She's still mad about me icing the Blood Queen." 

"Some people just can't let shit go. Well, I guess that explains that 'Liber' thing. Liber was the roman name for the greek goddess Persephone." said Carl. He stood up and brushed his torn and burned clothes off. It didn't have much effect. "What do you want to do about this?" 

"Tell me that my personal stuff has been shipped here from Chicago already." 

"It has. It's in a warehouse by the bay. Came over by boat last week. What do you need?" 

"I think I'm going to need some of my old hunting gear." he looked up and down the street at the carnage the bombing had wrought. "You know it's funny. I've been going legit for so long, I'd forgotten how much fun this shit could be."   
  


Fourteen hours later, John Sansker stared out the penthouse window of the Hong Kong Hilton. He was dressed casually. Blue jean, a loose fitting black shirt and a light Jacket. He sipped at a glass of wine laced blood and watched the headlights of cars driving on the streets below. 

She would be here soon, he knew. The sun was setting. Pure bred vampires like her couldn't go out into the sunlight no matter what kind of sunblock they wore. He had made every preparation for her that he could think of, and yet he couldn't get rid of the jitters in his belly. 

Behind him on the television, CNN was carrying the story of the bombing at the Kasner building earlier that day. They were so smooth and professional as they outlined the events of his ongoing downfall. Like Carl had predicted, once the press realized how old he was, they started digging, and sure enough, they found out about his old monster hunting days. 

The cameras switched to a reporter standing in front of a familiar building. They were camped out on the sidewalk in front of the Hilton, hoping for a view of the fallen political leader. 

Sansker didn't care about any of this. Persephone had reminded him earlier of what was important in life. Not lying and manipulating millions of people. No, it was the pounding of your heart when you didn't know if you would still be alive in the next second that made you feel alive. 

There was a knock at the door, and he knew that it would be her. 

"Come in." he said without bothering to turn around. The door opened and in walked an albino beauty. There was not a hint of color on Persephone's entire body. Isabella had told him once that Persephone was a rare breed of vampire that only occurred with an exceptionally pure blood line. 

She was dressed in black leather from neck to toe, and she carried with her the Spear of Destiny. 

"Are you ready to get this over with, John?" She dripped with contempt when she said his name. 

"Of course, dear. This has gone on too long as it is." He sat the wine glass on the table next to him and turned to face her. 

And then she was in motion. She came in low, slashing with the spear at his gut. Sansker reached out with his foot and snagged the leg of the table next to him. He kicked and sent it skidding into her path. No good. She stepped up onto it and launched herself at him. He aimed low and met her charge by grabbing her by the legs and hauling her back across the room. Bones in her shoulder popped when he drove her into the wall. She raised her right arm and punched him soundly in the face. He grabbed a handful of her shirt, turned, and body slammed her into the floor. She swung the spear from where she lay on the floor, and opened a gash on his leg all the way to the bone. He fell backward as she did a backflip that ended with her on her feet. She lunged forward and drove the head of the spear straight into his side. Sansker bellowed with agony as she pushed him across the room and against the wall. He bumped into the television stand and a clay pot sitting on top of it threatened to fall off. He reached over and steadied it. 

"Careful." he said. "That's Isabella in there." 

Her eyes narrowed into slants and she wrenched the spear from his side. The blood that he had been drinking earlier poured from the hole in his side. She raised the spear and prepared to drive it through his heart. He waited until she stabbed before he made his move. He sidestepped out of the path of her thrust and grabbed the spear right behind it's head. He added his strength to her thrust and slammed the spear in the wall, where it stuck fast. He brought the edge of his right hand down on the spear shaft, snapping it in two. 

Persephone twirled the remains of her weapon in her and raised it over Sansker hunched over back. She slammed it down, impaling him all the way through his torso. The jagged end of the shaft exploded from his chest in a spray of blood. The strength went out of his legs and he fell to his knees. 

Sansker fell onto his side and lay there his chest heaving and his breath rattling wetly. Persephone squatted down beside him and smiled. 

"John, I just got you through the heart and you'll be dead soon. I just want to know one thing. How did you kill her? She was a much better fighter than you so how the hell did you stand a chance against her?" 

He laughed, coughing blood on Persephone's leather boots. "I beat her because she trusted me when she never should have. It was easy enough. I slipped her a huge dose of tranquilizer in her drink one early morning, right before she turned into her coffin for the day. Once the sun was up and she was asleep, I went around setting all the clocks in the house twelve hours forward. I closed all the drapes in the house and set her alarm clock for midnight. Then I caught a flight to Los Angeles. It was that easy. The alarm went off at midnight, which was actually noon. She crawled out of bed, opened the drapes to let a little moonlight in, and bang, instant suicide by sunlight. You stupid pure breds. You just don't have the tolerance that us human vampires can develop. Feel better?" 

"Well, I know it was over quick for her, and she didn't suffer." said Persephone. 

She stood up and walked over to the television. She reached for the urn sitting on top of it. There was a click from behind her. She turned back toward Sansker and saw that he was holding a large caliber pistol. Persephone threw back her head and laughed. 

"Honestly, John. A gun? How pathetic." She shook her head and picked up the urn. A puzzled look went over her face. The contents of the urn were splashing. 

Sansker fired his gun, shattering the urn and splattering pure, undiluted holy water all over Persephone. The liquid bore a hole through her where ever it touched. It burned like an acid, throwing up little tendrils of smoke. John watched in satisfaction. After several seconds, she fell to the floor, rasping. 

Sansker reached up and grabbed a hold of the stake protruding from his chest. He yanked on it and pulled it out. He turned onto his belly and drug himself across the floor to where Persephone was fighting to keep breathing. 

Sansker patted her on the arm comfortingly and said, "Fucking pure breds, you've got no tolerance." 

Persephone's eyes rolled in his direction, and even as she was dying, hate burned bright in them. 

"Let me tell you a little secret, dear. You know why they call me Heartless John? I have one weakness. My heart. Do you really think I'm going to carry it around with me?" He started to chuckle. "No, my heart is somewhere safe." 

She spasmed and took in one big breath. "You mean, safe like Alden Raspin was safe?" 

She died with a smile on her lips. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

So what do you think so far? If you have any comments or curse words, write me at bcampo@hotmail.com I welcome all commetn and r complaints, I just ask that if you tell me that I suck, you tell me why I suck or I'll never learn Nuthin' ! If you liked this story, you will probably like my others. Look for them at [Bad Monkey Comics!!!][2]   
One more thing, whoever owns Persephone now, owns her, and I don't have a problem with it. Forgive me my trespasses and please don't sue me. 

   [1]: mailto:bcampo@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo



	3. a change of heart part one

Sansker 2200

# 3

By [Brian Campo][1] ( bcampo@hotmail.com )

Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction**. Sansker and all Spawn related characters are owned by Todd McFarlane productions and I do not contest that ownership. This story is in no way official, and should be taken as seriously as kids playing Spawn in their backyards. Please, do not sue me, I am hardly worth it :) 

Warning: This story contains harsh language and **EXTREMELY ** graphic violence. If you are easily offended, or think your mom might drop a load of hurt on you for reading this, don't. Consider yourself warned. 

**-A change of heart part one**   
  
  
  
  


He put on the garments of vengeance for clothing, and was clad with zeal as a cloak   
Isaiah 59:17

  
  
  
  
  


**Boston, Massachusetts- **The woman entered the meeting chamber with a large leather bound book under her left arm, her dark brown cape billowing out behind her. The room was filled to capacity, men and women sat in chairs around a long oak table, and more crowded the space around them. There was a tangible excitement through out the room. Those gathered knew that something very big was up, but they didn't know what. The nervous buzzing and whirring of saws could be heard.   
The woman with the book walked to the end of the table, where a podium and microphone had been set up for her. She sat the book on it, and began to thumb through it. "Good evening." she said into the microphone, and those gathered in the room mumbled a greeting back to her. She found her spot in the book and then looked up at her audience. Her right eye whirred quietly as she looked at the familiar faces around the room.   
"I'm glad you could all make it on such short notice, and I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. Once you hear what I have to say, you will understand my urgency. How many of you have been watching the news about this business going on in Hong Kong?"   
About one quarter of the room raised their hands and other appendages.   
"Very good. While the media is ran by secular scum, it can be a useful tool in our quest. For the rest of you, Hong Kong, or the Vampire Nation as it's calling itself these days, has been placed under sanctions by the United Nations. Special Forces are being sent in to arrest the leader of the Vampire Nation, Mr. Jan Kasner. It seems he hasn't exactly been truthful with the world regarding his identity, or his past. It was revealed earlier this evening that he is in fact a rather old vampire by the name of John Sansker."   
There was a collective gasp through out the room.   
"Yes, that John Sansker. When our founder, Philip Krahn, was ninety-three, his health took a turn for the worst and he knew that he would die soon. He was afraid that those who followed him would forget the ideals and beliefs he had based his crusade on, so he began to write his book, "The Cross We Must Bear". It ended up being over two thousand pages long, and today, it is simply known as the Book of Krahn. The book not only detailed his life and beliefs, it also described the procedures for dealing with evil in it's various forms. It was a manual for battling the abominations and monsters that plague this world. Toward the end of the book, he provided a list of individuals that he felt had to be destroyed if good was to triumph. It included world leaders, heads of churches, vampires, demons, and so forth. John Sansker was at the top of that list.   
In his chapter, "Those who must be dismembered and their body parts sent to various parts of the world", Philip referred to Sansker as "Honor less scum who will find you at your weakest moment to torment you." In the chapter, "Heads I'd really like to see on my wall" he called Sansker "the embodiment of evil" and "Satan's favorite son." He compared his first encounter with John Sansker to Christ's meeting with Satan in the desert. I think you get the idea, and realize what we have to do."   
The crowd murmured in agreement.   
" Now, for a very short time, we have Sansker out in the open, right where we want him. We must move to kill him now, before he goes back underground like the snake he is. I am sure that he will elude capture from Special Forces, since they are not trained to deal with his kind, as we are. If he is allowed to escape, he will change his identity again, and disappear. We will never have another opportunity like the one before us now. Now is the time to strike! We will find him,"   
Saws buzzed excitedly in the crowd.   
"we will drag him kicking and smoking out into the sun,"   
She raised her right arm high in the air, revealing a high tech mechanical construction ending with a chain saw. The blade roared to life, and she slammed it down in the podium.   
"And he will feel the awful weight of the Curse!"   
All sixty of them stood, shouting and revving their blades. Somewhere in the afterlife, Philip Krahn smiled. Then a devil slapped him across the back of the head and told him to get back to shoveling shit. 

**Hong Kong- **Mark Trevors looked across the street at the crowd gathering around the Hilton hotel. It had all the makings of a wild night for Hong Kong. Police were doing their best to keep the media away from the building, while others were evacuating guests of the hotel. Armored Personnel Carriers hovered down the street, the heat of their engines turning the moisture on the streets to steam. A gunship had circled the building fourteen times in the last half hour, shining it's spotlight in different windows. Old John had really pissed off the wrong people this time.   
Mark stepped out into the street and made his way through the crowd. Some of the people carried protest signs, demanding that Sansker be left alone. A few were thrusting the hand sign for vampire power at the television cameras, a peace sign with the the fingers curled down. They hissed grotesquely, revealing their fangs. Mark was not wearing any sun block, so the cameras did not detect him when he walked in front of them. He waited for the next big group of people to come out of the doors to the hotel, and he slid in behind them, entering the building unnoticed.   
It was strangely quiet in the building, most of the guests had already been escorted out. Not wanting to run in to anyone, Mark elected to take the stairs up to the penthouse where his boss was staying. When he reached the top floor six minutes later, he was not even out of breath. His vampiric powers gave him more stamina so he could run up the entire building, while a human would have passed out on the tenth floor. He walked up to Sansker's door and knocked. A second later, the door was thrown open and a pistol was shoved in his face.   
"Hey, Carl." said Mark.   
"Mark? Holy shit! You're alive!" he turned back into the room and shouted, "Hey, John, it's Mark. He's alive!"   
Sansker appeared at the door, his eyes shifting up and down the hall behind Mark. He was shirtless and holding a blood soaked towel against his side. "Hey, Mark. I thought you got toasted when my building got bombed."   
"Nah," said Mark. "I just got tossed over the north side of the building. I've been looking for you guys all day."   
"Well, come on in. Join the fun." Sansker limped away as Mark entered the room and shut the door behind him. The room stank horribly, like the cross between sulfur and burning flesh. The remains of a body lay on the floor, smoldering.   
"Goddamn!" said Mark. It looked like someone had used her chest for a barbecue pit.   
"Yeah, I still got it, don't I?" said Sansker, surveying his handy work proudly. He continued on his way, going into the bathroom. Mark could see blood smeared all over the far wall, and there were large stains on the carpet. Had Sansker been wounded? He followed the other two vampires into the bathroom, where medical supplies were scattered all over the counter.   
"It's still burning, John." said Carl as he picked up a scalpel. "I'm just going to have to cut out all the effected flesh or it will just keep spreading." Sansker turned a little, giving Mark a better view of the nasty looking hole in his side. Little wisps of smoke drifted up out of the wound. Carl knelt down so that he could have a closer look at what he was doing. John grabbed on to the counter edge tightly while Carl began to trim out the meat around the edge of the hole. Nauseated, Mark had to look away.   
He noticed an iron spear head was sitting on the counter and he reached to pick it up. A second later, there was a deafening crack that left his hand stinging, and the spear head had disappeared.   
"Don't touch this." said John, setting the spear head behind himself.   
"Son of a bitch." said Mark, as he rubbed his throbbing hand. Sansker was very fast, Mark hadn't even seen the slap. "I was just going to look at it."   
Sansker nodded his head toward the other room. "There's the last person that looked at it. Leave it alone."   
"All right, boss." Mark watched Carl pull out a long strand of smoking flesh and toss it into the toilet.   
"This should heal in time." said Carl. "But it will take as long as it would for a human. She got you good, John."   
"Lets just stitch it and I'll be good to go. What's happening downstairs, Mark?"   
"Looks like their gearing up to storm this place. There were four APC's down the street and you've seen the gunship, I'm sure."   
"Yeah, we saw it. I'm thinking about borrowing it." John looked down to watch while Carl sewed his wound close. "Carl brought us a bag of toys. Why don't you go pick a couple to play with? They're on the bed."   
Mark walked out into the other room and opened up the bulging douffle bag. It was full of assault rifles and pistols. Most of the world had switched to using energy weapons, but not Sansker. He said it was because he didn't trust them, but Mark suspected that energy weapons killed too cleanly for Sansker's taste. He liked to see some splatter when he greased someone. He took a beretta and stuffed it in his waistband and then took a m-280 and four clips for it. He checked the clips and saw that there were hollow point cartridges in them. Mess makers. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and went back into the bathroom.   
"Do we have a plan?" he asked. Carl was just finishing up.   
"Yeah, we're going to kill a bunch of the fuckers downstairs, and then I'm going to go check up on some property that I hold dear." John picked up something from the medicine cabinet behind him and handed it to Mark. "What do you think about that?"   
Mark looked it over and said, "It looks like a bugging device."   
"We found that in the ear of the sweetheart in the next room. I don't think that she was working alone. Who ever was on the other end of that thing is trying to fuck me over. I may be paranoid, but they are after me."   
"Do you think it's still running?" asked Mark, handing the earpiece back to Sansker.   
"No, I stuck it in a light socket earlier and burned it out." He reached over and dropped the bug into the toilet. "Just to be safe." he said.   
They walked back into the front room, where Sansker pulled some fresh clothes from his suitcase and dressed. When he finished buttoning his shirt, Carl offered him a shoulder harness with two automatics, which Sansker waved away. "No need, my man. I'll use my hands." Carl pulled the holsters on himself and put on a jacket over them. Sansker put on a leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses. "Well, I'm ready. How about you guys?"   
"As I'll ever be." said Carl, who picked up a rifle and loaded it. Mark started for the door, but stopped when he heard Carl and John whispering.   
"- trust you with this?" he heard John say, and he was slipping the spear head to Carl.   
"After two hundred and sixty years, I hope you can trust me." Carl raised his pant leg and slid the spear head down into his boot. Mark quickly turned around before they could look up and see he was listening. Sansker took the lead and they left the penthouse   
All was quiet in the hall. They made their way to the stair well and started down it. Four floors down, they heard voices drifting up from down below. The troops were getting ready to come in. Sansker looked like a kid on christmas morning, all eager to unwrap some gifts. He doubled his pace, and the other two vampires did their best to keep up. When they reached the third floor, Sansker halted, and put his finger to his lips. He pointed at the door leading to the third floor and then pointed at his nose and sniffed. He had smelled something. He smiled giddily and opened the door. Carl and Mark followed him as he crept sneakily down the hallway. Mark could hear some men talking, now, and Sansker was making his way toward them. He chambered the first round in his rifle and raised it his shoulder, ready for anything.   
The conversation between the two soldiers was getting clearer the closer they got. One of the men was trying to get the other to hurry up. Apparently the other was going through luggage that had been left in the room, looking for money. Sansker paused outside the open door waiting for the soldiers to come out.   
"You're taking too fuckin' long man. We were supposed to have this floor secured ten minutes ago. The sarge is going to rip us a new one."   
Carl stopped about twenty feet behind Sansker and kept watch up the hall, while Mark turned around and watched their backs.   
"All right, you whiner. Let's get the fuck out of here."   
The soldiers came out of the room and Sansker said, "Quiet down, boys. Vampires might hear you."   
It looked like they might fall down for a second, and then when they saw who it was, they grabbed for the rifles on their backs. Sansker put the first ones head through the sheet rock wall and snapped the other's neck so hard he was looking at his own ass before he fell to the floor.   
"It's all in the wrist." he called back to Carl, who laughed along with his boss. The elevator at the end of the hall dinged, and before the doors opened, all three of the vampires had disappeared. Six UN troopers stepped out, rifles at the ready. They were halfway down the hall when Sansker stepped out of a doorway, hands in his pockets, whistling a ditty.   
"Freeze, asshole!" shouted one trooper and a split second later, six guns were pointed at Sansker's head.   
"Holy shit!" he said. "Man, you guys really enforce that "No noise after 10 pm" rule here, don't you?"   
"John Sansker, you are under arrest for War Crimes and UN Weapons Violations. Place your hands on your head, then turn and face the wall."   
"Boy, do you have the wrong guy. Let me show you something."   
The trooper sighted Sansker and said, "Don't move."   
"Watch close." said Sansker. "Cause I will only be able to do this once, for reasons that will soon be obvious."   
He snapped out his arms, puncturing the chests of two troopers standing near him. He spun, a spurting heart in each hand, and then shoved each organ into the opposite body. When he finished his spin he was facing the trooper again, who hadn't yet caught on to what Sansker had done.   
"Now, am I wrong or am I right," asked Sansker as the two men fell dead. "was that not the world's fastest heart transplant?"   
The trooper grunted in disgust and started to squeeze on the trigger. Sansker put two fingers through his forehead before he could get off a round. He turned to the three remaining troopers and licked the gray matter off of his fingers seductively. All three opened fire, the explosive flashes of light from their rifles turning the plaster of the wall and ceiling into chips and dust. Sansker ducked in, grabbed the leg of the nearest trooper and tore it off. Wielding it as a flaccid bat, he turned on the next trooper and cracked him up along side the head with it.   
Sansker was thrown forward by the force of a blast from behind. The third trooper was standing behind him, firing shot after shot into the vampire. Sansker turned toward him and shoved his hand through the man's belly. He grabbed hold of the troopers spine and yanked it out with a "Shlork"ing sound. He shoved the length of jagged bone up through the man's throat and into his skull.   
"All done, boys." said John.   
Carl and Mark came out of their hiding spots and took a look at Sansker's mess. Two of the troopers were still moving so they popped them in the head with their pistols. John was leaning against the wall, a satisfied look on his face.   
"You know," he said. "I've been asked in the past, does the killing ever get old? I tell you the secret to keeping the thrill is creativity. Always be willing to try something new. I was hoping that a couple of them would line up, 'cause there's something I've been wanting to try. Oh well, maybe next time."   
"Where do you want to go from here, John?" asked Carl. Mark could never understand how Carl seemed so unfazed by the things Sansker did. He guessed it was because he had been around him for so long and had grown numb to the horror. Mark was twenty five years old now, and only four of those were spent as a vampire. He still felt a certain amount of disgust when he saw John tear someone apart. Andrew used to tell him that that was just his humanity trying to rear it's head.   
"I think we should take the-"   
Bright light filled the hallway, stopping John mid sentence. The gunship had stopped at the window at the end of the hall way and was shining it's spotlight on them.   
"Well, that can't be good." said John. The window blew in, and the hallway exploded as one of the gunships cannons went to work. The lights went out and the Mark was surprised to see Sansker disappear into the smoke and flames, running _toward_ the gunship. It took everything Mark had to keep from running the other way. He saw Carl take to John's heels and he followed.   
He felt a burning in his chest, and knew he had been hit. No matter, he thought, it would heal quickly. Up ahead, he could see two black shapes dodging in and out of the line of the cannons fire. The taller of the two jumped out the broken window and the spotlight pitched wildly.   
"That crazy son of a bitch," thought Mark. "he's trying to take on a gunship!"   
He ran the rest of the way down the hall and out of the smoke. He could see Sansker clearly now, clinging to the front of the air craft, punching at the glass of the cockpit. Mark could see the pilots inside screaming in terror, and they were bucking the aircraft around, trying to throw off their attacker. Sansker had his claws secured on one of the vents under the window, and he wasn't going anywhere. His hand punched through the thick glass and grabbed onto one of the pilots. There was a whirring sound as the other pilot brought a cannon around to bear on Sansker. Sansker let go of the pilot and slid down the nose of the gunship as the cannon opened fire. It looked like he might fall right off the end, but at the last second he grabbed onto the radio antenna sticking from the nose. He swung in under the craft and delivered a solid kick to the bottom of the cannon that had tried to shoot him. It snapped off of it's supports and was sucked back along the side of the gunship, right into the engine turbine. The left engine exploded and the nose of the craft dipped until it was standing on end. Sansker hung tenaciously to the radio antenna, four tons of burning aircraft right about him. The gunship began to fall. Mark thought John looked a little worried.   
Sansker let go of the antenna and dropped the last forty feet to the ground. He hit the ground running, the shadow of the gunship on his back. It nose-dived into the ground and then the back end fell back toward the hotel where Carl and Mark were standing. It crashed through the second floor windows right below them and exploded. The floor fell out from under them and then they were falling into the fire. 

Out in the midatlantic, a brown transport raced east. Inside, men and women gathered around television monitors, watching attentively. The flickering light reflected off of their visors and shining armor. The screens showed live broadcasts from Hong Kong and the ordeal being played out at the Hilton. The men and women sat forward in anticipation when the gunship began to crash. A few seconds later, when Sansker ran clear, they cursed and flopped back in their chairs.   
"We'll get him." said the woman in the back. "Don't fret, children." 

The force of the blast knocked Sansker onto his face and he skidded on the pavement a couple more feet before coming to a stop.   
"Goddamnit." he said as he pulled himself to his feet. He didn't mean to crash the thing, he was just going to borrow it. He turned around to check the damage and saw that the first three floors of the hotel were on fire. The window that Carl and Mark had been standing at was now just the top of a very big hole in the side of the building. Sansker hoped that they were ok. A vampire could survive fire, but being burned alive was no fun in anyone's book.   
Down the street, people were getting up off the ground and crawling out from under cars. Several platoons of soldiers were standing out in the street, waiting for the order to go in.   
"Hey," he heard someone shout. "it's him! It's that Sansker bastard!"   
Sansker spun around searching for cover. He was in the middle of the street, there was no cover. Guns down the street began to fire at him. Having no where else to go, John ran back toward the hotel. He jumped over the wreckage of the aircraft and disappeared into the burning building. 

"Mr. McBean!"   
The UN inspector turned to see a man in camouflage striding up toward him. "What can I do for you, Colonel Brighton?"   
"We have a problem, sir. It's the building, it was damaged in the crash earlier." George looked over at the twenty story structure critically. It did seem to be leaning to the left.   
"What are we supposed to do about it?"   
"Sir, all of our troops are being recalled out of the building. We do not feel it is safe for them to be in there."   
"Now, hold on!" said George. "How the hell are we going to catch that bastard if all the troops are out here?"   
"It's just too dangerous." said Brighton. "We're just going to have wait him out. He'll have to come out eventually."   
**"Perhaps I could be of help, Sir!"** said a voice behind them.   
They turned to see a very large man with a crew cut and a black uniform stomping up toward them. His voice sounded like it was being amplified somehow, as if someone had inserted a megaphone into his mouth. He snapped to attention, and said, "**Name's Straight Razor, sir! My friends call me Razor, sir! At least they would if I had any friends, sir!"**   
"That's good, son." said Brighton. "What can we do for you?"   
**"It's what I can do for you, sir! The SS sent me in to help with this vampire problem you're having, sir!"** He turned so that they could see the badge on his shoulder showing twin lightning bolts, the symbol of the SS.   
"So, you're a SPB. What exactly is it that you do, son?"   
**"Well, sir, I have a titanium steel skeleton!"** He slammed his fist into his forehead, producing a loud clanking sound, which McBean thought sounded just a little hollow. **"I also have genetically enhanced reflexes and strength!"** He flashed his arms around, karate chopping invisible enemies. **"On top of that, sir, it was a vampire that kilt my mama!"**   
"Well, he certainly isn't lacking in enthusiasm, is he, Brighton?" asked McBean.   
The Colonel was looking the man up and down, like he was trying to figure out just what the hell his deal was.   
"So you want to go into a collapsing building and bring out Sansker?"   
**"Sir, it would be my pleasure to go in there and drag that bloodsucking son of a bitch out by his ass hairs, Sir!"**   
Brighton and McBean looked at each other. McBean shrugged.   
"Why the hell not? Good luck, son."   
**"Thank you, Sir!"**   
Straight Razor spun on his heal and stomped across the street toward the Hilton. "Well, that was interesting." said Brighton.   
"Yeah." said McBean, who was starting to get a bad feeling about all of this. 

The inside of the hotel looked much worse than the outside. It looked like it had been bombed. Half of the first three floors lay in piles of broken rock. The building above groaned as it contemplated just falling down. Occasionally, there was a deafening crash as another slab of rock fell free from it's moorings and dropped to the ground.   
Sansker climbed through the rubble inside the Hilton, sniffing and hoping that his sensitive nose would detect some sign of Mark or Carl. All this dust and smoke was messing with his sense of smell, however, and he couldn't locate them. Every couple of seconds, he would call out one of their names, and listen for a response.   
The sound of falling gravel caught Sansker's attention and he saw a hand shoving out of the broken concrete thirty feet away. He crossed over to it as quickly as he could and grabbed hold of the hand. He gently pulled and Mark's head appeared a few seconds later, gasping for air. John pulled him the rest of the way out, and then began to dig down through the chunks of rock. Carl had to be somewhere close.   
He lifted a six foot slab of concrete and found his friend underneath it, squashed flat as a pancake, but otherwise just fine. He yanked and tugged his crushed friend out into the open where he could heal, and then sat down to let some of his own wounds have time to heal. He had several holes in his torso from the gunship cannon and the trooper upstairs that had shot him. If he waited a couple of minutes they would close up and he would be good to go. His side hurt, and he thought that he might have ripped the stitches out.   
A couple of minutes later, Carl moaned and sat up. "We got to find something else to do with our nights, John. This shit sucks."   
"I hear you." said Sansker, who got to his feet and offered his friend a hand. Mark looked genuinely shaken, and John didn't think that he had ever come that close to death before. He'd get over it in a while, he was sure.   
"You did good, Mark." he told him. The kid smiled weakly in return. "You guys feel up to getting the hell out of here?"   
He started toward the hole leading outside, Carl and Mark following him. "Now, you guys are going to have to keep up when I start running, because I don't really want to come back and get you. Just stay right behind me, and you'll be fine."   
** "Oh, I doubt it!" **boomed a voice out of the darkness in front of them. **"First you will have to face the Razor! The Straight Razor!"**   
"You have got to be kidding me." said John as a dark shape stepped out between them and freedom, flexing and waving it's arms.   
**"What's wrong, Vampire Scum?!"** shouted the voice. **"Afraid to fight someone your own size?!"**   
"Where did they find this clown?" asked John. "Hold on, guys, this will only take a second."   
Sansker made a leap that closed the distance between him and Straight Razor. His arm stuck out, his hand already cupped for the heart it would rip out. An instant later, there was a clanking sound and Sansker fell down clutching his hand.   
"Aw, shit." he said.   
Straight Razor pounded his chest and shouted, **"What's wrong, you worthless piece of snake shit?! Doesn't a solid titanium steel ribcage agree with you?! Well, let's see how you like an ass kicking like you wouldn't believe!"**   
Sansker realized what this guys gestures and voice reminded him of. One of those professional wrestlers from the late twentieth century, in all their loud and obnoxious glory.   
Straight Razor grabbed a handful of Sansker's hair and lifted him into the air. **"Alley Oop!" **he yelled as he slammed Sansker into a concrete column.   
"You need any help there, John?" Carl called out.   
"No," said John, his voice a little strained. "I got it all under control. It's all good, Carl."   
Straight Razor grabbed him by the throat and by the crotch and cracked Sansker's back over his knee. **"How does that feel, feign?! You like that?! You want more?!"**   
Sansker popped the claws out of his finger tips and ripped the flesh off the front of Straight Razor's skull. The Shadow Striker clutched at his face screeching, while Sansker rolled out of reach. He got to his feet, his legs shaking as if they were unsure whether they were up to the task of holding him up. He straightened his back and it cracked loudly as his spine slipped back into alignment.   
"I had that happen to me one time." said John. "Hurt's, doesn't it?"   
Straight Razor dropped his blood covered hands away from his face. **"I WILL BREAK YOU!" **he said and charged at Sansker with a loud roar.   
"First a face lift." said Sansker as he crouched under Straight Razors flailing arms. He shoved his claws into his belly, grabbed a hand full of guts and ripped them out. "Then a tummy tuck." Straight Razor ran past, tripping over his own innards. He ran right smack into a column, which broke in half. Above them, the building began to rumble   
Sansker was a blur as he grabbed Carl and Mark and slung them over his shoulders. He ran for the opening as fast as he could as chunks of concrete began to fall around them. Straight Razor was stumbling around with a look on his face that said, "Wha?" 

Across the street, George heard someone shout, "There he is again!" He sat down his coffee and turned to see John Sansker exit the building at a full run, with two men slung over his shoulders.   
"Kill him!" he shouted at his men, who pulled up their guns and opened fire. The vampire dodged around the bullets and kept going. A second later, he disappeared around the corner onto another street.   
A rumble made George turn back toward the building. The Hilton was leaning toward them and it was quivering back and forth like it was made from Jell-O. Right before it collapsed on them, George thought about how he would never be able to spend all that money he had been paid. 

Well, that's the first issue, thanks for taking the time to read it. As always, if you liked this story, you might like my others, check them out at my site, [Bad Monkey Comics!!!][2]   
If you have any comments or cursewords, e-mail me at [bcampo@hotmail.com][1] I welcome all comments and criticisms, but ask if you are going to tell me I suck, tell me why I suck (yeah, that sounded funny to me too.)   
By the way, I will probably print any letters I get next issue (if I get any), so if you don't want yours printed, let me know. 

   [1]: mailto:bcampo@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo



	4. a change of heart part two

Sansker 2200

# 4   


By [Brian Campo][1] ( bcampo@hotmail.com )   


Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction**. Sansker and all Spawn related characters are owned by Todd McFarlane productions and I do not contest that ownership. This story is in no way official, and should be taken as seriously as kids playing Spawn in their backyards. Please, do not sue me, I am hardly worth it :) 

Warning: This story contains harsh language and **EXTREMELY ** graphic violence. If you are easily offended, or think your mom might drop a load of hurt on you for reading this, don't. Consider yourself warned. 

**-A change of heart part two******

**Hong Kong-** Sansker set Carl and Mark on their own two feet and then turned to watch the Hilton collapse four blocks away. The noise it made was deafening, and the ground shook beneath their feet. A dust cloud rose into the air as the rubble came to rest.   
"Well, boys," said Sansker. "we brought down the house."   
Carl stared at him straight faced while John laughed at his own joke. He didn't see a lot of humor in the whole situation.   
"I thought we were goners that time, John." said Carl.   
"Hey," said Sansker, suddenly turning serious. "did I come through for us?"   
They stood staring at each other for a full thirty seconds before Carl sighed and then nodded.   
"Then I don't want to hear anymore about it. We're alive, which is more than all those fuckers under that building can say."   
John started up the street and Carl stayed where he was, staring at the ground. After a minute, he shook his head and followed after John. He was in turn followed by Mark, who looked like he didn't quite understand what had just passed between Carl and John.   
He didn't understand the relationship that the two vampires had. Carl wasn't sure he understood it. They had been friends for two hundred and sixty years now, if friendship was what you could call what was between them. That's a long time for two people to be connected. The lines of a relationship can get blurred after all those years. There were times when he felt like a father to John, and then there were other times, like earlier, when he felt like a child being admonished. Several times over the years, they had even stood as brothers, equals. There were times that he hated John Sansker with every fiber of his being. He had thought about leaving John and cutting out on his own many times. He even tried once or twice, but he always ended up coming back. Two hundred and sixty years of bad habits were hard to break.   
Carl suspected that he was taking Kasner inc's demise harder than John was. He had thought that they might actually be settling down for once, not moving from one blood bath to the next. Sansker couldn't live like that. He needed the rush of blood in his ears and the pounding in his chest. The whole time he had played the Jan Kasner persona he had been restless, craving the thrill of battle. Since the whole business with Persephone started, Sansker had been the happiest Carl had seen him in years.   
Up ahead, John was pulling off his leather jacket and inspecting the holes in the back with a frown on his face. He had recieved the burn marks in his fight with the UN troopers. He cursed and tossed it into an alley as they crossed in front of it. Carl picked up his pace, catching up with Sansker and putting a little space between them and Mark. The kid was trustworthy enough, but since they had only known him for four years, there was naturally a little uncertainty.   
"Where are we headed?" asked Carl.   
"We need to get a transport of some kind. I'm headed over to the Flesh Pot and I'm going to put some muscle on the little runt until he gives me one."   
Carl had learned long ago that if John said he was going to do something, he did it. It may not get done the way you would have liked, but the job got done none the less. If John said he was going to go in and intimidate the Hong Kong mafia into giving him a transport, then by god he was going to go in there and do just that. It was best just to stand back out of the way and wait for the blood and hair to start flying.   
"So what is it that has got you so worked up? What is it we are going to check up on?"   
Sansker turned his head and made sure Mark was out of hearing distance. Satisfied, he said, "It's my heart."   
"You think someone's after it? What makes you think that?"   
"It was something Persephone said before she died. I think she was working with someone else to kill me, but I don't think she realised what they were after until I told her about my heart." A fire engine roared past, sirens wailing. It turned up the street toward the Hilton. Sansker watched it for a second and then turned back toward Carl. "A lot of things have been bothering me. The wire we found in her ear. The fact that the Washington DC building was attacked in the middle of the afternoon when Persephone couldn't tolerate sunlight."   
"But she signed the job in Washington. Remember, "Liber"? Maybe she wore some kind of protective suit to keep out the sunlight." This was one of the reasons Sansker liked Carl. He played the devil's advocate, and forced John to look a situations from diferent points of view.   
"Yeah, I know. I haven't figured out how it all works yet. Something is just not right."   
"You think they would go through all that trouble just to get your heart? I'm sure it's good heart and everything, but why would anybody want it?"   
"There are plenty of people who would like to run a stake through it. Throw a rock in the air and your sure to hit somebody who doesn't like me. You never know, she may have just been fucking with me, taking one last jab before the lights went out. I'll just feel a lot better when I know it's safe."   
"So, where is it?"   
"I left it with a girl."   
"Ain't that always the case?" said Carl. Right now, they felt like brothers.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the Flesh Pot. It was an old factory that had been converted into a nightclub/bordello. On the sign out front, a hologram of a topless dancer gyrated to a pounding drum rhythm and a screeching guitar. Neon signs depicting various sexual positions flashed on and off in various colors. This was where you came when the world frowned on your fetish. Inside those walls, if you had the money, your every dream could come true.   
John remembered seeing a commercial for this place. It had a really snappy jingle done to the tune of an old b-52's song. He found himself humming it as he crossed the street.   
"Flesh Pot, baby, Flesh Pot,   
Flesh Pot, baby, Flesh Pot,   
Flesh Pot, bayeeebeeee."   
Outside of the building, there was a line of people waiting to get into the club. They were mostly humans but John saw some vampires mixed in with them.   
Carl elbowed him and then pointed up at the roof of the building. They could see a white transport parked up there.   
"Very nice." said John.   
Sansker walked up to the front door, the people waiting in line cursing at him and telling him to get in line. He replied to them with his middle finger and kept on going.   
"Do you know who that was?" he heard one of them say behind them.   
The bouncer at the door recognized him right away. "Mr Kasner! What a pleasure!"   
"Don't you watch the news, son? It's Sansker now. Is the boss in?"   
"I'm not sure, Mr. Sansker. You might check with Mr. Lizer. He's the one up on the catwalk."   
Sansker looked where the bouncer was pointing and saw a muscular man clad in leather standing on a metal catwalk that crossed above the dance floor. He was surveying the club below with a watchful eye.   
"Thank you." he said, and walked into the club. The bouncer looked at the guns that Mark and Carl were carrying, but didn't say anything. Guns were a pretty common site in the Flesh Pot.   
Inside, it was very crowded. A band was playing technothrash on the stage, and the dance floor was a writhing mass of flesh. Bamboo cages hung from the ceiling and scantily clad women danced inside them. One of the women was pouring a bottle of what looked like blood down her chest. It didn't smell like blood though, and Sansker guessed it was just a colored sugar syrup. Several men were standing below the bamboo cage letting the stuff pour into their mouths. All of this visual and audible stimulation, which would have aroused a normal man, only served to make Sansker hungry.   
He skirted the edges of the dance floor, avoiding the thrashing bodies there. The staircase leading up to the catwalk was on the other side of the club, next to the bar. Upon seeing Sansker, many of the vampires in the crowd flashed the Vampire Power symbol at him and grinned. He nodded to them in reply. The UN could say what they wanted about him, but he was still very popular with the vampire crowd. He had given them a taste of something they had never had before. Normal lives.   
A familiar scent stopped him in his tracks. It smelled of fire, brimstone and and a touch of raunchy B.O. He turned around, sniffing, trying to detect where the smell was coming from. His nose lead him toward the bar, where he homed in on a scrawny teenager that looked way to young to be in a bar. The boy had shoulder length blond hair that was in desparate need of washing. His arms were thin sticks sticking out from his off-white t-shirt, and there were scabs on his elbows. His face sported a impressive patch of peach fuzz. John sat down on the stool next to him and looked at him intently.   
"Violator?" asked John, uncertain.   
The boy turned toward him, his eyes a little glassy from the whisky bottle he was working on. His eyes widened when he realized who he was looking at.   
"Heeeeeeeeeeyyy," said the boy, pointing his finger at John. He snapped his fingers a couple of times as he tried to find John's name in his alchohol stewed brain."Sansker. Hey, man, how ya doin'?" His voice was slightly slurred.   
"Not bad. Hot damn, it's been a long time. You look..."   
Violator held his hand up to stop John. "I know, I know, don't say it. Healthy, right?"   
Sansker was actually thinking scrawny, but he said "Well, yeah."   
"It's this new body I'm using. I can't get it to hold a pound."   
"It's probably got a high metabolism."   
"Yeah, there's that. It's also all this fucking health food. You can't get a decent meal anymore. Everything has been drained of all the fat and cholesterol, you know, the good shit. Man, I'd kill for a greasy burger."   
"Ah, you'd kill for anything, Vi. It must be very hard on you." said John, his face the perfect picture of sympathy. "It is good to see you again. Last time I saw you was when we whacked that heavy metal guy, what was his name?"   
Violator scrunched his eyes close in concentration. "Uhhhhhhhhhh, Lenny something."   
"Yeah," said John. "Lenny. Lenny Manson."   
"King of the Zombies!" said John and Violator at the same time, and they started laughing.   
"God, he was an asshole." said Violator, still chuckling. "Where did a zombie get that kind of ego?"   
Sansker leaned forward, grinning. "Remember how pissed he was when he woke up?"   
"Hey!" said Violator in his best Lenny Manson impression. "What the hell did you guys do with the rest of my body?!"   
Sansker slapped his knee, and guffawed so loudly that people down the bar turned to stare at him. "And you were dancing around singing, "I'm just a gigalo."   
Violator waved his hands in the air and sang, "Cause I ain't got no booooooody!"   
John slapped him on the back and the two of them laughed together for a minute before they could get theirselves under control. "Man," said Sansker. "Those were the good old days. Where did they go?"   
"They went out with Pork Rinds." said Violator. He closed his eyes for a second and looked like he was savoring the idea of Pork Rinds.   
"So, what are you doing here?" asked John.   
"My brother works here, so I get free drinks. He's a body guard."   
"Oh, yeah? Which one is he?"   
Violator pointed up at the man standing on the catwalk.   
"Well, are you going to be pissed if I work him over a little? I'm here on business."   
"Hell, no, give him a couple for me. He cut me off earlier."   
John got up from his stool and said, "Well, I gotta go take care of this stuff. It sure has been good seeing you, Vi. Takes me back."   
"Yeah, us old dogs have to stick together." said Violator.   
"See you around." said John, and then turned toward the staircase. He stopped and came back. "Hey, you know what? I've been buying up companies left and right and I seem to remember I aquired an old twinkie factory in the states some where. Seems like it still had a lot of product left in there. They'd be two hundred years old, but you know what the shelf life on those things are."   
Violator licked his lips and said, "Don't tease me like this, John."   
"Let me look into it," said John. "if I got something, I'll let you know. Maybe we can work something out."   
"Yeah that would be great."   
John asked for a pen from the bartender and wrote down a phone number on a napkin.   
"This is my lawyer's number." he said. "I keep in contact with him so he will know where I am."   
"Thanks." said Violator and he tucked the napkin into his jeans pocket. "Take care of yourself. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do." He smiled slyly and his eyebrows bobbed up and down.   
John walked away again, this time heading up the stairs. As Carl walked by, he nodded at Violator.   
"How's it going, Carl?"   
"Same old, same old." said Carl as he followed his boss up the stairs.   
Up above, John was approaching Mr. Lizer. The big bouncer turned to look John over and in a deep voice asked,"Can I help you?"   
"I'd like to see the Man." said John, not liking the way the bouncer was sizing him up. He started to walk past him, and Lizer put one hand on his chest to stop him.   
"He's busy at the moment. You will have to make an appointment, Mr. -?"   
"Sansker." said John, looking down at the hand that was touching him and trying to decide how he wanted to tear it off.   
"Well, Mr Sansker, he doesn't want to be disturbed. If you leave your number, I can have him get a hold of you later." He began to push John back ward, back down the metal catwalk. John dropped one foot back to brace himself and the lunged forward against Lizer. He punched the bouncer in the nose, causing him to stumble backwards. Lizer caught ahold of the railings and stopped himself from falling all together.   
"I'd like to see him, and I'd like to see him now."   
Lizer growled and pulled himself to his feet. "Maybe I'm just not making myself clear."   
Here it comes, thought John. This was where Lizer showed his true form.   
The bouncer's body swelled, shredding his clothes and doubling in size in half a second. A second later, it had doubled again. The catwalk moaned beneath thier feet under the strain of the added weight. Hair sprouted all over Lizer's body and a horn thrust from the top of his spine. His forehead sloped down and his jaw stetched out from his face. Lizer was short for Vandalizer.   
The phlebiac demon took a step toward John, dwarfing him with his massive body. He opened his mouth and roared. John nearly gagged at the smell of the demon's breath.   
"PIIIIIISSSSSS OOOOOFFFFFFFFF!!!!" roared Vandalizer, his yellow teeth only inches from John's head.   
"How rude." said John, and he snapped his hands into Vandalizer's mouth. He grabbed a tonsil in each hand and yanked them back out. Vandalizer gagged as the insides off his mouth were pulled and stretched out. John turned and quickly tied the tonsils in a knot around the railiing of the catwalk.   
"Ack" said Vandalizer, clawing at the knot that held him.   
"I'm just going to go on in." said John. He reached out and gently strummed the stretched out tonsil. It twanged.   
"Ack." said Vandalizer.   
"Uh, oh." said John, realizing that the demon was still blocking thier path. He shrugged and hefted Vandalizer over the railing, where he fell a couple of feet and then hung, swinging. People below were looking up now, and more bouncers were starting up the stairs. John turned to Mark and Carl.   
"Why don't you boys stay here and make sure that we aren't disturbed." he said.   
"Sure thing." said Mark as he and Carl pulled their rifles off of their backs and turned to face the staircase. John walked the rest of the way down the catwalk to a metal door that stood there. He opened the door quietly and stepped into the room.   
Inside, there was a very lavish office, with a large oak desk, refridgerator, big screen tv, the works. Large windows gave a very nice view of Hong Kong. In the distance, John could see flashing lights and hover crafts circling what used to be the Hilton. The large high backed chair at the desk was turned away from John, and he heard a muffled giggling sound coming from the other side of it.   
"Smut thinks there may be employment possibilities for you here, M'Lady." said a high squeaky voice.   
"You really think so, Mr Smut?" asked a young women's voice.   
John cleared his throat and a small head looked out from behind the chair. "Oh, shit." it said, and disappeared. A second later there was the sound of a zipper zipping and the chair spun around revealing it's tiny occupant.   
"Hello, Mr Sansker. Did Mr Lizer show you in?" said Smut, a furry demon who stood only two feet tall. He was wearing a black tuxedo, and the hair on his head had been styled to accent his horns. His face was catlike, and his whiskers were twitching nervously. This was the head of the Hong Kong mafia.   
"No," said John. "He was occupied."   
Behind Smut, a very leggy blonde stood up, wiping off her mouth and pulling down the hem of her very short miniskirt. "Do you need anything else, Mr Smut?" she asked.   
"No." said Smut. "You can go back downstairs, Angie-dear."   
The girl sauntered past John, looking him over with interest. She bumped a hip into him and disappeared out the door. John wished he could see her face when she saw what he had done to Vandalizer.   
"What can Smut do for thee?" asked Smut.   
John turned to him and saw the demon had one hand under his desk. He could hear a quiet clicking sound. Smut was setting off an alarm, no doubt. It didn't matter. There was only one door into this room and his boys had that guarded.   
"I need to borrow that very nice transport I saw parked on the roof."   
Smut stared at him for a second, and then said, "Smut wonders if thou hast lost thy marbles? You come in his place uninvited and asketh to borrow Smut's transport?"   
"I could use some cash, too. All my credit is pretty shitty at the moment."   
"Someone has thumped thy gourd too roughly, in Smut's huimble opinion." said the little demon. "Go fucketh yourself most roughly, fine sir."   
John got a very disappointed look on his face. He put one foot on the edge of the desk and shoved. It slid easily across the room, tearing up the carpet. John reached down and grabbed Smut by his horns. The little demon kicked his feet and swung his arms as he was lifted into the air.   
"Which one do I tear off first?" asked John.   
"You wouldn't dare hurt Smut's lovely head ornaments!" screeched Smut.   
Sansker put pressure on one of them, recieving a scream from Smut. He grinned, enjoying himself. "It would only be a loan, Smut. I'd pay you back."   
"I swear to M'nuxtulu that if you don't unhand me and put me down, I'll have thy ass ground into hamburger." said the little demon.   
"Do these grow back?" asked John, who could feel the horn starting to splinter under the pressure."   
"All right, all right!" shouted Smut. "You have but to name it and Smut will provide!"   
John set him down and the demon scurried across the floor to a safe in the corner. "Son of a bitch." muttered Smut angrily as he rubbed his wounded horn.   
"The keys to the transport and the money, Smut." said John.   
Smut continued his cursing as he turned and began to open the safe's combination lock. John stood over him, making sure he didn't try anything stupid. There were shouts and several gunshots from outside and Smut smiled up at John.   
"Smut thinks that his guards are coming to get you, John."   
"Shut up and open the safe, Pip-squeak."   
Smut fairly fumed at being called that. He huffed and turned back to the lock. A second later he popped it open. Inside, there were stacks of cash tied in neat bundles and a stack of classic porno mags. The top magazine was a special Playboy issue featuring the girls of Elysium.   
"Now the keys to the transport, Smut."   
Smut reached into the breast pocket of his tux and pulled out a key card, which he handed to John. John crouched down next to the safe and began pulling out stacks of cash from the safe, setting them on the floor next to him. When he had the safe emptied, he waved his hand at the safe, as if inviting Smut to step inside. The little demon began to panic.   
"Please, have a heart, sir! Smut does not like little spaces!"   
"I am completely heartless." said John and pushed Smut into the safe. There were more gunshots outside, and Mark stuck his head in the door.   
"We got problems, John. That demon guy just got loose, and there are a bunch of guards trying to get up here."   
"How did he get loose? " asked John. He kicked the safe closed and started for the door.   
"He just kinda tore himself loose." said Mark   
"Where did he go?" asked John, and a second later he got his answer. The floor under his feet buckled and he felt himself being thrown up into the air. The Phlebiac Demon burst through the floor, bellowing in rage. John landed on Smut's desk with a crash, and rolled off the other side of it.   
Vandalizer pulled himself free of the floor and started after John. The torn ends of his tonsils hung out each side of his mouth, bleeding green blood. He had a wild look in his eyes that was half rage and half pain. He held his arms out wide and rushed at John.   
Sansker grabbed the edge of the desk in front of him and flipped it up onto his shoulders. He threw it across the room, catching the demon in the chest and driving him back. The weight of the desk shoved Vandalizer out the window. The demon pinwheeled his arms, trying to catch onto anything to keep himself from falling. His fingers just barely caught the edge of the window sill and after a second he started to pull himself back up. John stepped the window and looked down at him.   
Vandalizer opened him mouth and roared.   
"You know, half your problems would be solved if you would just keep your mouth shut." John told him. He turned, picked up the safe, and dropped it down Vandalizer's open mouth. The demon's eyes bugged as the full weight of the safe hit the bottom of his belly. His fingers slipped from the window sill and he fell to the street below. If you listened very closely, you could hear Smut screeching in terror from within the safe. Down below there was a thunderous crash as they hit bottom.   
John looked down at the damage he had wrought for a couple seconds and then went back to the task at hand. He scooped up a couple bundles of cash as he walked past them and tucked them into his shirt. He stepped through the door way and out onto the catwalk where an all out fight was in progress. Carl and Mark had used up all their ammo and were now beating back Smut's goons with their rifle butts. John pushed past them and tore into the closest guard with his claws. He threw the body over the side and moved forward to meet the next attack. He was pleasantly surprised to find one goon standing in front of another. He was going to get the chance to try something.   
He punched his hand through the first guard and grabbed the one standing behind him. He gave him a good yank and pulled him back through the small hole had made in the first guard. He turned and grinned at Carl. "Pretty good, huh?"   
Carl rolled his eyes in reply. The man who had been pulled through his partner was still screaming when John threw them over the side of the catwalk. More guards were coming up the staircase and more were taking shots at the vampires from below. .   
"Hell with this." said Sansker. "Over the side, boys" He grabbed the railing and vaulted over it, dropping to the dance floor below. Carl and Mark landed next to him a second later, and threw down their empty weapons. The club was nearly empty now, since most of the patrons had made a run for it when the shooting began. Up above, the guards were trying to get turned around so they could come back down the stairs. John whipped his head back and forth, looking for a way to the roof. He caught sight of Violator, who was still sitting at the bar nursing his whiskey. John ran to him and said, "Hey, Vi, how do you get to the roof?"   
Violator pointed at a door on the west side of the building and started laughing as the guards coming down the stairs tripped and tumbled into one big entangled pile.   
"I say the good old days are back, John!" he called after Sansker.   
"Let me know when they start." said John and he went through the door Violator had pointed out to him. It was a stairwell he found himself in. Taking steps four at a time, he headed up.   
"Did Smut say you could use his transport?" Carl called out behind him.   
"Yeah, he was sympathetic to our situation." he held up the keycard so that Carl could see it. "He also loaned us some cash with no interest."   
"I tell you, John, you got a way with people."   
They reached the top of the stairs and slammed through the exit door and out onto the roof. Sansker whistled when he saw the transport. It was a beauty, the twenty-third century version of a limousine.   
"Uh, John, I think we should get going." said Mark "I hear the goon squad coming up the stairs."   
"Yeah, sure." said John, and he handed Carl the key card. They hurried to get the hatch open and then rushed inside as the first of Smut's men came through the door on the roof. Mark shut the transport's hatch while Carl went to start up the engines. The guards began firing at the hull of the transport. Smut had spared no expense in armoring the craft, so the energy blasts were bouncing harmlessly away. The engines began to whine, and the pitch escalted as the craft wound up to full power. Carl pressed the throttle, and the craft lifted vertically off of the roof. Down below, the guards were lowering their weapons.   
"Where to?" asked Carl.   
"Oh, I hear Mexico is nice this time of year. Let's go there." John plopped down in the passenger seat and put his feet up on the dash. Carl turned the transport east and they rocketed away.   
A few seconds later, a large brown transport flew in from the direction of the Hilton. It circled the Flesh Pit twice, and then turned to follow the white transport into the night. 

*Special thanks to Jae Thomas this issue for letting me use his Fan Fic avatar Violator and for helping me make sure I wrote him right. I recommend that you read his Violator 2200 a.d. series when it starts.*

* * *

The Snake Pit   
I welcome all letters and criticisms. Sound off if you got a pair, I want to hear what you think!

And to Vibrator; I´ve just read first issue of your sansker story and I loved it. Nice heart transplant!   
Isn´t it really issue #3. It seems to me there´s a continuty from your other sansker story. I would like   
to see some drawings of your characters but more important is issue #4. Go on you lazy bum I want   
the next chapter soon!! 

B Better   
When you're right, you're right. This is the thrid issue in the whole series, but only the first issue of this miniseries, which should run five or six issues. I hope I didn't confuse anyone. If I did, read Sansker 2200a.d. first and then this miniseries. A Change of Heart starts right where 2200a.d. left off. Thanks for the nice compliments and I'm spitting these out a quick as I can.   
Yeah, the transplant was pretty cool. You'll never see that on E.R.

Oki, I've read the first part now... really good. No, I mean it.   
_Really_ good. Just two small notes: 

1) You used my name! That was really cool! "Jan" Kasner... (Although,   
Jan Kanser would've been even cooler ^_^ ) 

2) It sounded a bit funny when Carl said to Mark (in the beginning) that   
"You're alive". As if vampires "lived"... hehe 

VhD 

Hey, I didn't know your name was Jan! Cool! The last name Kanser may turn up sometime, I'm always trying different variations of Sansker for his various aliases. As for the living thing, I haven't completely thought out my stand on Vampires yet, but I don't think they are dead. Sansker's heart, where ever it is, is still beating, so he might be alive.   
I'll try an approach many writers don't use, "Uh, I don't know"   
Thanks everybody for writing, your letters keep me writing,   
Brian   


* * *

  
Well, that's another issue, thanks for taking the time to read it. As always, if you liked this story, you might like my others, check them out at my site, [Bad Monkey Comics!!!][2]   
If you have any comments or cursewords, e-mail me at [bcampo@hotmail.com][1] I welcome all comments and criticisms, but ask if you are going to tell me I suck, tell me why I suck (yeah, that sounded funny to me too.)   
By the way, I will probably print any letters I get next issue, so if you don't want yours printed, let me know. 

   [1]: mailto:bcampo@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo



	5. a change of heart part three

Sansker 2200

# 5

By [Brian Campo][1] ( bcampo@hotmail.com ) 

Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction**. Sansker and all Spawn related characters are owned by Todd McFarlane productions and I do not contest that ownership. This story is in no way official, and should be taken as seriously as kids playing Spawn in their backyards. Please, do not sue me, I am hardly worth it :) 

Warning: This story contains harsh language and **EXTREMELY ** graphic violence. If you are easily offended, or think your mom might drop a load of hurt on you for reading this, don't. Consider yourself warned. 

**-A change of heart part three******

** Hong Kong- "Oh**!" exclaimed Henry Wilson, and he clutched at his cramping belly. "Damn this town!" he muttered under his breath. You couldn't get a meal here that didn't turn your bowels to water. There ought to be warnings on every menu in the city. Warning! This food will be flooding out your ass in a torrent within the hour. Eat at your own risk!   
He looked around the restaurant, found the rest room sign and then got up from his table. People watched him with amused expressions on their faces as he waddled to the men's room door and pushed his way through it. Thankfully, it was empty, so he wouldn't have an audience for what he was about to do. He shuffled quickly into the last stall and closed the door behind him. He cursed Murphy and his fucking laws when he saw that the dispenser for toilet seat covers was empty. On top of every thing else, he would probably catch a case of something funky from the toilet. His stomach gurgled threateningly, and reminded him that he didn't have time to dilly dally. He dropped trouser and sat down on the stool.   
"I could be rich." he thought as he relieved himself. If this feeling of relief could somehow be bottled and sold, he would be a rich man. People would come from miles around to get a taste of what he was feeling-   
Shouts from the restaurant stopped his idle mental chatter. He sat straight up, listening intently. A woman screamed, shrill and terrified. Henry's sphincter tightened and his ears strained to hear what was going on. He heard muffled voices that were getting louder as they were coming his way.   
The door to the bathroom opened, and the shouting from the restaurant grew louder still. "Oh, shaddup!" he heard a voice say right outside the door. We're only going to be in here a minute. Shaddup or I'll tear yer goddamn heads off! C'mon, Van."   
There was a loud scraping sound, like something very heavy was being dragged across the floor. He could hear a moaning sound. Had somebody had to much to drink, Henry wondered. That would explain the shouts and screams. Maybe the guy had started puking out in the restaurant. Hell, the food alone could have caused that.   
"It smells like somebody died in here." said the voice. The door to the stall next to Henry squeaked as it was opened. "Kinda makes me hungry."   
"I don't feel so good, Vi." said the voice that Henry recognized as the moaner.   
"Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't be such a dick all the time, bro. It makes people want to do shit like this to you."   
"It hurts." moaned the second voice.   
"Aw, quit yer whinin'. I'm sick of hearing it. "It's hurts, Vi!" "Why are people so mean to me, Vi?" Waa, waa, waa! I'm of half a mind to leave the thing in there. Shaddup, and let's get this over with."   
"Ok, Vi. I just don't think I'm going to be able to puke it up."   
Henry heard an evil little laugh that chilled him to the bone. "Oh, it ain't comin' out that end."   
A pain filled bellow filled the bathroom, and the something heavy slammed into the stall wall. The evil laughter continued, accompanied by the sounds of wet meat and crunching bones. The stall wall banged again, and dented inward. This guy must be as big as a horse, thought Henry, as he listened to what was happening in the next stall.   
"Almost out, Van." said the first voice. Porcelain shattered, and bloody water splashed under the stall onto Henry's feet. He lifted his legs, trying to avoid the mess. "There, that did it. Now that wasn't too bad, was it?"   
The other voice groaned.   
"You know what the problem here is? You don't want to be happy. You have to be in a pissy mood all the time so you're not satisfied 'til everyone around you is in a pissy mood. Well, hell with that, bro, I'm not going to let you ruin my other wise perfect evening. Turn back into a human and come with me. If you can keep from bitching, or whining about hemorrhoids, I'll buy you a drink."   
A second later, "Ok, let's go. By the way, do you got any money on you?"   
The door to the men's room opened and closed. Henry was left alone once again. He put his feet down on the floor and wiped with shaking hands. He stepped out of the stall a few second later, buttoning and zipping up. The door to the next stall was open, revealing the damage. There was blood splattered across the back wall and the floor. Greenish slime dripped from the toilet paper dispenser. On top of the broken pieces of the toilet bowl sat a large combination safe. It too was covered in blood and green slime.   
Inside the safe, Henry heard something move.   
"Hello?" he heard a squeaky little voice say. "Is there anybody out there?"   
What was with this town? he wondered.

** The South Pacific-** "Sure, I'll hold." said Sansker. "Just tell him that it's Jean St. Claire calling."   
He waited for a minute with the cell phone held to his ear, and then the phone was picked up on the other end. "Hey, John, this is Jacob. Glad to hear you're still among the living."   
"Thanks, Jacob. I was just calling to check in and see how the transfers went."   
"It went well. We got eighty percent of your holdings switched over to the Gene Carsen identity, and we've got your eye scans and thumbprints switched over to Carsen, too. You should be able to walk into a bank and make a withdrawal without any problems. How are you guys holding up?"   
Sansker looked around the cabin of the transport, at Carl in the pilot chair, and Mark sitting in the back. "We're doing fine. We're down to three now, just me, Carl, and Mark."   
"How's the kid doing with all this?"   
"He's still a little shell shocked, but I think he's going to pull through." Sansker was watching Mark, who was staring absent mindedly out the window. "He didn't freeze up when everything got hairy, so I'm proud of him."   
"So do you want to hear the damages from your little fiasco with Persephone?"   
"Is it going to ruin my day?"   
"Compared to the day you've had so far, it's not all that bad. Twenty-three million in property damage and one hundred and fifteen dead."   
John cocked his head to the left and did the math in his head. It didn't come out right. "How did you come up with so many dead? I only got fifty or sixty."   
"You don't know about the Moscow and Sydney offices, do you? They were both hit the same way."   
"When did this happen?"   
"Same day as the Washington attack. She got around, didn't she?"   
"Yeah, a little too much." It was starting to look more and more like Persephone had an accomplice. "Let me know if you turn up anything that might indicate someone else did any of those jobs, ok?"   
"Sure thing, John. By the way, I got a phone call from some guy named Violator. He was asking for Twinkies?"   
John chuckled at that and explained it to Jacob. "Do me a favor and check up on that factory, will you?"   
"Sure, John. I'll look into it. Anything else?"   
Carl tapped John's knee and then tapped the screen to the Global Satellite Positioning System. It showed that they were coming in on the southern California coast   
"No, you're doing great, Jake. You can expect a nice big present from Santa this christmas. I gotta get off of here, I'll call you when I get a chance, ok?"   
"Sure, anytime. Bye, John."   
Sansker clicked off the phone and sat forward to look out the cockpit window. The Pacific blurred past below them, softly lit by the setting sun. On the horizon in front of them, the sky was darkening with the coming dusk. When they crossed the shoreline, Carl turned the craft southeast. In another hour, they were moving through southern texas and closing fast on the mexican border.   
Suddenly, all three of them felt a violent shudder and a sense of nausea. A second later, and it was gone. Mark was the only one of the three who looked truly shook up. He was clutching his belly and looked like he might throw up.   
"That would be the Rio Grande." said John. Running water had an averse effect on vampires. Crossing it could make them freeze up or pass out. Isabella had once told Sansker that in the beginning it was God's way of keeping vampires out of Eden, since it was surrounded by four rivers. What ever the reason, he could never get used to that feeling when he crossed a river.   
Below them, the plains of the southwest had turned to the jungles that covered Mexico. The way the world kept changing around him never ceased to amaze John "You know," he said. "the last time I was here this was all desert."   
"When was that?" asked Carl.   
"1879" said John after a moment's thought. "I was a gunslinger back then, went by the name of Johnny Midnight, on account of I called all my draws at midnight. " He laughed, remembering something. "I tell you, nothing pisses off a texas gunslinger like having to wait until midnight to gunfight somebody and then find out the guy has a french accent to boot.   
Anyway, back in those days, a lot of fellows were selling off their souls to a devil to be the fastest gun, and I was doing some collecting type work for the devil. I chased a man named Mad Dog Kennedy down here into old Mexico and cornered him at a bar called El Casa Del Diablo."   
"Sounds like a nice place." said Carl. Carl looked at the radar for a moment, and his brow creased. He looked back up out the window.   
"Oh, it was a real shit hole. It was a whorehouse plain and simple, it made no pretenses to being anything classy like a bordello. Puke stained sawdust all over the floor, a bucket to piss in right at the end of the bar, cock roaches steered clear of that place."   
Carl's eyes were back on the radar, watching a large white dot on the screen.   
"Kennedy was fast it turned out," continued John. " for a human anyway. He was only carrying lead bullets though, so all the speed in the world couldn't have saved him. I filled him full of holes and sent his soul back to it's rightful owner via the Pale Rider Express."   
"It turned out that the bar was actually a cover for a tribe of vampires who used the whorehouse to lure in victims. The girl that lead them said that they had been living there for several thousand years. She invited me to stay, and I did for four years. Then the boredom got to me and I had to leave.   
That's where I left that certain piece of property."   
"Hold that thought, John." said Carl. He flipped on the autopilot and walked to the rear window of the transport. John got up and followed him back.   
"What's up?"   
"Some kind of craft is following us." he pointed at a barely visible brown speck in the sky behind them. Mark got up from his chair to join them at the window.   
"Who do you think it is?"   
"Don't know. Could be the UN, could be Smut's men."   
"Could be the guys that are after my heart."   
"And we would be leading them right to it. What do you want to do?"   
Sansker watched the distant craft for a moment, and then said, "Let's turn around and go have a look at them." Carl went back to the pilot's chair and then turned the craft back in the direction they had come. Sansker moved to the front window so he could study the aircraft as they approached it. It was a heavily armored brown transport. There were twin cannons on it's nose, and John could see more gun ports along it's side. He didn't recognize the craft at all. He was getting a bad feeling in his gut about this.   
"Don't get too close, Carl." he said.   
Carl twisted the yoke and banked away from the brown transport. The other craft turned to follow them.   
"Recognize them?" asked Carl.   
"No." said John. "Their ship has got a lot of armor, so it's not going to be very fast. Try to out run it. Mark, see if Smut had any weapons on board."   
Mark went back and started opening compartments and pulling out the contents. Carl laid on the speed and dropped the craft down until they were only about ten feet above the tree tops. The brown transport dropped altitude and started to speed up behind them. John was wrong. While it wasn't very quick on the take off, it was fast on the top end. It closed in on them, and a few seconds later it filled their back window. John was looking back at it, obviously worried..   
"Can you give it any more?" he asked Carl.   
"Yeah." said Carl. He clenched his jaw and bottomed out the throttle. The white transport fishtailed and then bolted forward, engines beginning to scream now.   
"Oh, shit." John heard Mark say. "Here it comes."   
He looked out the back and saw the other transport's guns open fire. The back window exploded in and the craft shook with each shot. Carl was fighting to keep the transport flying straight, but it was doing no good. The brown transport loomed up behind them, and crunched it's nose into their tail. The nose of their craft dipped and hooked a tree top. The world began to turn helter skelter, spinning first one way and then another. Tree branches thrust through the windows, and the craft tore itself apart upon them.

"Brother Hendrickson, up front." said Sister Frieda. A second later a head shoved through the opening behind her.   
"Yes, ma'am?" Hendrickson's bulk filled the door way to the cockpit, his shoulders so wide he would have had to turn sideways to pass through it. He was a very big man, and Frieda thanked the lord daily that he was on their side.   
"We've knocked the Bloodsuckers out of the air. We need a ground crew to go down and finish them off. I want you to lead them."   
"I would be happy to serve, ma'am." said Hendrickson, and he did look happy at the prospect. Frieda pushed her way past him and out of the cockpit.   
"Very good." said Frieda. "The jungle below is too thick for us to make a landing, so your team will have to repel down into the crash site."   
"Yes, ma'am."   
"You pick your team, and the weapons cache is open for your use. Be ready to drop in two minutes."   
"Yes, ma'am."   
Hendrickson turned to the other members of the Curse sitting in the cabin of the transport. He started calling names, picking men and women that he trusted and had fought beside before. Kenny Baker, a postal worker from Maine who had helped him fight a small vampire infestation back in '95. Anna Marie, who still had scars up and down her left fore arm from a scrap she'd had with a demon in London. He had clawed her to ribbons while she pinned him down with her attachment of choice, a nail gun. Pedro Fuentez, who had joined the cause and made the cut only a year ago, but was already proving to be a valuable member of the congregation. He had been military before joining the church of Krahn and didn't shy from blood like some new members did. He knew how to follow orders and didn't go to pieces when the fecal matter hit the rotary blades. Karen Dobbs, a serial killer who had found Christ in prison, and later found her way into the Church. She was one of the more devoted members he had ever met, who sometimes took her self mutilation to extremes. Her worst so far was a self inflicted double mastectomy. She left her body functional, but it would never be the focus of anyone's lust, which is what she intended in the first place.   
The four stood when their names were called and followed him back to where the weapons were stored. "Take what you need." he told them. "Be prepared but don't over load yourself." He took for himself a chain saw attachment, a chain gun attachment, and a flame-thrower. He put the saw on his arm and put the other two pieces in clamps on his back. The others took saws and guns for themselves. Anna Marie decided to stick with her nail gun rather than one of the more powerful chain weapons. When they were properly armed, they went back to where Frieda waited for them.   
A hatch in the belly of the transport had been opened and repelling lines snaked down through the hole into the jungle below. Several Curse members were hauling large trunks over to the opening and dropping them through. They were for body parts, Frieda explained to them while they attached the repelling lines to their jump harnesses. Hendrickson and his crew were to find the vampires as quickly as possible and dismember them. There were four trunks down there, one for heads, one for torsos, one for arms, and one for legs. The point was, keep the parts separated and the vampire couldn't regenerate.   
"God be with you, Children." said Sister Frieda, holy zeal in her eyes. "Go get them."   
Hendrickson nodded and stepped out into open space. His line went taut and he slid to the ground below at a cautious pace. He was passed on the way down by Karen on her own line. She was revving her blade and looking down into the jungle eagerly. They entered the treetops, and could see some of the wreckage below, now. It didn't look like anything was moving. Hendrickson prayed that the vampires hadn't recovered yet. He would prefer to catch them unprepared.   
Dobbs hit the ground and released her repelling line. Hendrickson landed a moment later and waved at her. "Slow down." he signaled to her. She nodded, looking more than a little annoyed. A few seconds later, the rest of the crew hit the ground and joined them by the wreckage of the vampire transport.   
Hendrickson signaled for Pedro to take the lead, then Anne Marie. He stood middle ground, while Karen and Kenny brought up the rear. Pedro attached his chain gun and started stepping ever so carefully into the wreckage. He had only taken a few steps when he stopped and raised a fist into the air. They stopped while he leveled his gun on what he had seen. He waved his other hand for them to come forward, and Hendrickson moved to join him. They could see a blonde head sticking out from between two broken passenger seats, motionless.

Sansker slowly became aware that he was being dragged.   
"-et him over here in the open..." he heard a man whisper. "so we can work on him."   
"Keep his legs separated." a woman's voice said. "We don't need him shape shifting." Rough hands grabbed his ankles and pulled them apart.   
"What if there are more?" a man said, not the same man as the first one.   
"We'll deal with them when were done with this abomination here."   
Sansker tried to open his eyes, immediately regretting it when his vision swam in circles. He had caught a brief glimpse of men and women in strange looking armor, with cybernetic right arms and legs. They reminded him of something, but his head hurt too much to remember. Just give me a few more minutes, he thought, and he could deal with this.   
He was thrown onto his back, a tree root poking sharply into his spine. He groaned in pain.   
"He's coming around." somebody said. "Hold him." He was pinned to the ground, and then a roaring sound filled his ears. John forced his eyes open to see a hispanic man with a chain saw on his arm crouching over him. The blade was spinning and the man was lowering it toward his belly.   
"Hey!" shouted John. "What the fuck?!" He struggled against the people holding him, but their grip was solid.   
"Quiet, Blood feign." said the man with the saw. "It's for the best."   
John wrenched his head to the left and saw a horribly disfigured woman grinning at him and his predicament. He realized who they reminded him of now.   
"The Curse, I would presume?"   
The woman nodded, still grinning.   
"Is this about that thing with, uh, whatshisname, Coon, Corn, Krahn?" asked John stutteringly, as he watched the blade get closer to his belly.   
The woman nodded again. The look on her face reminded him a little too much of himself for John's taste. This bitch was as bloodthirsty as any vampire.   
"Aw, fuck, people, that was two hundred years ago. Don't you believe in forgiveness?"   
"First there must be penance." said the man with the saw. His blade cut into John's gut, snagging his entrails with it's teeth and dragging them out of the hole. John screamed in agony and jerked against the people holding him. The man with the saw pressed in, blood spattering his visor and dripping down through his goatee. The teeth of the blade were hitting his spine now, sending what felt like electric shocks through out his body. He was howling, his voice turning raw from the force he was putting behind it.   
A shadow passed through the moonlight shining on the man above him, and a gunshot rang out. John turned his head to see Carl fire both of the automatics in his hands at John's tormentor. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the man's helmet, but there was enough force behind them to knock him backwards. His saw ripped up out of John's gut with entrails still dragging behind it. The disfigured woman holding John's right arm let go to swipe her blade at Carl's leg. Carl grunted when the blade cut in, but kept his feet. He turned his guns on her and started squeezing the triggers. The bullets pinged off her chest plate and helmet while she jumped at Carl. They went down in a tumbling pile, punching and kicking.   
John reached over with his free hand and grabbed the throat of the man holding his left arm. "Oh, God!" said the man. "He's got me!" The man let go of his arm and reached up to get John's hand off of his throat. John reached up with his now free left arm and drove his finger through the man's one good eye. Using this finger to grip his skull, he threw the man down the length of his body at the two Curse members holding his legs.   
The man who had been cutting Sansker was on his feet now and charged John with saw raised. The jungle flashed a bright white, and the man was thrown backwards once again. Mark stepped over John with an energy rifle held to his shoulder. He fired again at the Curse member, blowing one of his legs completely off.   
To John's right, Carl had managed to get one of his pistols up under the freaky looking bitch's chin and was emptying the clip into her. The bullets were bouncing around in her helmet, turning her brain to mush. Carl pulled himself free of her and reloaded as he approached the two Curse people at John's feet.   
John turned himself over onto his belly and then began to claw at the ground. Slowly, he began to pull himself toward the undergrowth. He gasped in pain when the roots on the ground snagged his guts and ripped them, but kept going.

Carl raised his automatics and started firing at the two remaining Curse members. The larger of the two, a big man with a full beard, raised the chain gun on his arm and opened fire on Carl. The vampire stumbled back as the bullets punched baseball sized holes in his abdomen. He landed hard against a tree, and dropped his guns. He clutched at the bark behind him and was able to keep himself from falling. Pushing himself off the tree he jumped at the man who had shot him.

"Hold it right there!" a voice behind Anna Marie yelled. She turned, firing her nail gun at what turned out to be the youngest of the three vampires. She pegged him twice in the legs, sinking the three inch long spikes in all the way to their heads. He fell, firing his rifle haphazardly from his hip. One of the rifle's energy blasts caught her in the shoulder and sent her spinning. The kid shot again, this time actually aiming, and got her in the throat. Her flesh and blood leg kicked straight out, and she fell over with a shower of sparks.

Carl popped out his claws, and curled his fingers in imitation of Sansker's patented "Heart Wrencher". He snapped his hand at the man's chest, and was greeted with a sharp agonizing pain when the bones in his hand crunched to pieces. Carl fell to the ground and swore at himself. How stupid could he be? Just yesterday he was laughing at John for pulling the same bone head move. Now, he had gone and done the same thing.   
The Curse member reached over his back and snapped the chain gun into a clip back there. His arm moved over and he locked it into the end of a chain saw attachment. He pulled the saw free and started it up.   
"We in the Curse believe that we should take up the full armor of God, for we wrestle not only against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. That thing that you just broke your hand upon, that was my breastplate of righteousness. And this?" He raised the big boot on the end of his cybernetic leg. "This is the gospel of peace." He kicked Carl in the side of his head, breaking his jaw.   
"And this..." the Curse member said as he raised his chain saw. "is the sword of the spirit. I rebuke thee, demon, and bind you in our lord's name. I send you to whatever hell you came from."   
A long brown tail dropped out of the tree behind him and wrapped itself around his throat. He was jerked into the air and pulled into the foliage of the tree above.   
"I'm sorry." Carl heard an inhuman voice say. "We heard from the Jehovah's Witnesses yesterday and we've decided to go with them." The Curse member's feet twitched spasmodically and then the body fell out of the trees, minus a head.   
Seconds later, Sansker dropped out of the tree in his full snake form, twitching his long tail nervously and looking for new victims. "You ok, Carl?" he said, his voice a harsh grating sound.   
Carl grabbed his jaw and yanked on it, popping it back into place. "Ya call that a wound?" said Carl in a bad british accent. "That's just a scratch." His voice went back to normal, and he asked, "Who were these guys?"   
"The Curse. A cult who followed a lunatic."   
"I can relate to that." said Carl.   
Sansker turned and writhed his way over to where Mark was struggling to get to his feet. Mark looked up and saw the monstrosity coming toward him and he panicked. He raised his rifle and was about to shoot when the snake thing said, "Mark, it's ok. It's me, John."   
Carl knew how Mark felt. Nothing could prepare you for the first time you saw John change into the snake thing. Sansker reached down and helped Mark to his feet, ignoring how the kid recoiled from his touch.   
"Can you change back?" Mark asked, obviously shaken.   
"In a little while. I need to heal some more and this body can take a lot more pain than my human one."   
"Hey, John," said Carl. "look over there." He pointed over to where five repelling lines hung down through the tree tops. "What do you want to bet that there is a transport on the other end of those?"   
Sansker stared at the ropes with his slanted reptilian eyes for a moment, and then said, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat. I just want to go find a hole in the ground and hide in it for a while."   
Carl smiled, glad that Sansker had decided going after the transport. "I thought that there was no rest for the wicked?"   
"Well, let's see if we can prove them wrong. I can't even remember the last time I slept."   
The three vampires moved into the jungle and disappeared.

Sister Frieda stood over the bodies of her fallen children, and fought back her tears. She had come down to the ground with fifteen other Children of the Curse when their repeated attempts to contact the ground team had gone unanswered. Now she saw why. The vampires had slaughtered them, every one.   
Poor Hendrickson, they couldn't find his head anywhere.   
She felt like weeping, but that was not an option for her. She had to be strong for her Children. She took a deep breath and turned to the group who were waiting for her to tell them what to do.   
"We will bury them here." she said. "We can not allow our grief to get in the way of the crusade. These men and women died in a noble manner, and I'm sure the Lord holds a special place for them in the here after. Do not worry, Children. The Snake will show his face again, and The Curse will be there waiting for him."   
"Amen." said the Children, and they went about the business of burying their dead.

Mark lay in the cave Sansker had found for them, trying to fall asleep. It was no good. It wasn't easy to fall asleep when there was a forty foot long, half snake, half human thing coiled up in the same cave with you. That wasn't all. He had noticed something earlier which made his blood run cold. There was a lump about halfway down the snake's body, and the more he looked at it, the more it looked like there was a human head in there.   
Mark turned away from Sansker so at least he would have to look at him. After a few minutes more, he realized that he liked the idea of that thing at his back even less. He turned back over and watched that lump as it moved slowly down Sansker's side all night long.

*Special thanks to Jae Thomas this issue for letting me use his Fan Fic avatar Violator and for helping me make sure I wrote him right. I recommend that you read his Violator 2200 a.d. series when it starts.*

* * *

The Snake Pit   
I welcome all letters and criticisms. Sound off if you got a pair, I want to hear what you think!

What to do what to do?! Should I study for exam and read" Elements of   
materials science and engineering" or read part 2 of " a change of heart"?   
HA!! Tough choice! 

I think I'm starting to look forward to your little stories as much as   
the new comic book releases( maybe because I don't have to get my lazy   
butt away from the PC).   
In this issue you introduced a lot of "old" characters showing how many   
things have changed since "the good old days" as Violator puts it.   
It's nice to see Violator in his new form and I'm looking to see   
what Jae can do with him.( Nice way to solve your problem about who   
should write about Violator).   
I just have one question for you relating the sentence: "You can go back   
downstairs, Angie-dear." IT WASN'T!! WAS IT?! 

B Better 

Now you got me laughing. No, it wasn't Angela, but that would have been pretty funny. I think the guy that runs the Shattered Image site that I write these stories for has killed off Angela (that little, why I oughtta...) Thanks for writing to let me know what you thought, I was starting to think I had bombed this time around.   
I can't wait to see Jae's Violator series myself. I'm sure we will see Violator in a whole new light.

And to everyone reading this, I welcome any and all Sansker fan art.

Thanks again, Vibrator

* * *

  
Well, that's another issue, thanks for taking the time to read it. As always, if you liked this story, you might like my others, check them out at my site, [Bad Monkey Comics!!!][2]   
If you have any comments or curse words, e-mail me at [bcampo@hotmail.com][1] I welcome all comments and criticisms, but ask if you are going to tell me I suck, tell me why I suck (yeah, that sounded funny to me too.)   
By the way, I will probably print any letters I get next issue, so if you don't want yours printed, let me know.   
  
  


   [1]: mailto:bcampo@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo



	6. a change of heart part four

Sansker 2200

# 6

By [Brian Campo][1] ( bcampo@hotmail.com ) 

Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction**. Sansker and all Spawn related characters are owned by Todd McFarlane productions and I do not contest that ownership. This story is in no way official, and should be taken as seriously as kids playing Spawn in their backyards. Please, do not sue me, I am hardly worth it :) 

Warning: This story contains harsh language and **EXTREMELY ** graphic violence. If you are easily offended, or think your mom might drop a load of hurt on you for reading this, don't. Consider yourself warned. 

**-A change of heart part four**

**Hong Kong-** 6-10-2200 A pretty young woman wearing a tan over coat smiled into the camera and said, "Hello. This is Nancy Holden reporting from Hong Kong. The body count is in this morning. When all the dust has settled from the terrorist attacks that have rocked Hong Kong, four hundred lay dead. One hundred and eighty UN troopers, two dozen police officers and nearly two hundred civilians were killed in the combined attacks on Hong Kong's Hilton Hotel and Flesh Pot night club. The hospital's in the city are filled to capacity and the Red Cross has been called in to give aid during this time of crisis.   
I spoke with UN Colonel Lionel Brighton earlier this morning regarding what the UN is planning at this point and he had this to say."   
A clip was played of a white haired man in uniform who looked like he was two seconds away from crying. "The United Nations are still discussing the situation here in Hong Kong, but want the world to know that the people responsible for these horrendous acts will be brought to justice. We will not tolerate terrorism, and as far as I am concerned there will be a reckoning."   
Nancy pulled the mike back to her own mouth and asked, "Will the Shadow Strikers be called in to assist?"   
"One of their own was killed in the Hilton Incident, I believe it would be safe to assume that they will be involved in some way."   
The live picture of Nancy appeared back on the screen. "There were mixed reactions through out the city as Hong Kong's large Vampire population spoke out in defense of their fallen leader."   
The picture switched to a clean cut young man wearing a business suit. "I think it's a load of bullshit." said the man. "John Sansker wasn't doing anything to anybody. These "terrorist attacks" as they are being called, were self defense. It's bigotry plain and simple. The UN is afraid that the Vampires are getting too powerful, so they start a confrontation."   
"The man was a Nazi." said the reporter. "You don't think he should be arrested?"   
"That was over two hundred years ago. Is there no forgiveness in the world? Doesn't anyone believe in redemption anymore?"   
The picture changed to a tall, lanky man with dark hair. "I know John Sansker." he said. "I've been writing his speeches for years. The man has done nothing but good for his people, and the UN is crucifying him."   
"Do you feel that there is any truth to the allegations that Sansker was developing chemical weapons?"   
"Lies." said the man. "Pure and simple."   
Nancy once again appeared on camera, and said, "In the midst of all this turmoil, one question remains. Where in the world is John Sansker?" 

Livin' lovin' gettin' loose   
Masturbatin' with a noose   
Now someone's kickin' out the chair   
- Aerosmith circa 1987 

**The Jungles of Mexico-** "Welcome to the House of the Devil." said John, indicating the collapsing building in front of him with a broad sweep of his arms.   
"I don't know who owns this place," said Carl. "but they need to fire their maintenance man."   
"It has gone down hill. This is only the front door, anyway. The real place is under the ground." They picked their way through the rubble, stepping over old beer bottles and broken bar stools. A large neon sign had fallen through the roof, and only the letters "The Titty Tw-" were visible.   
"Is there going to be anybody home, Tarzan?" asked Carl. He had been calling John that all night. Shortly after dusk, John had gone hunting in hopes of stirring up some hot blood for them to drink. He had returned wearing a loincloth made from one of the spotted coyotes that had developed in the area, earning himself a good laugh from both Carl and Mark. The rest of the animal's skin had been made into a makeshift canteen which he had filled with blood. The three vampires had drank their fill and started off on their long trek through the jungle.   
"No," said John, giving Carl a look that said the joke was getting old. "I heard some bad shit hit this place back in the late nineteen hundreds and the whole damn clan got their selves killed. It's too bad. They used to have a dancer with moves that could wake the dead."   
They walked through a large hole in the back wall of the building, and Carl took a sharp intake of breath. They were standing on top of a vast canyon, and the ground dropped away only two feet in front of them. Old diesel trucks lined the edges of the canyon, and there was a good sized pile of them at the bottom two hundred feet down.   
"They might want to fire the valet, too." said Carl. John started down the side of the canyon, and and Carl and Mark followed. About thirty feet down, the ground changed from loose dirt and gravel to hard stone steps. Carl was starting to get an idea of what they were standing on. It looked like one of those Aztec temples he used to see in National Geographic when he was a kid. They were only about fifty miles south of Texas. What would the aztecs have been doing this far north?   
"Hey, John. This place what I think it is?"   
"Yeah." said John. "Aztecs used to sacrifice a thousand people a year here. There was an ungodly amount of blood spilled on these stones before the vampires ever took over. One thing's for certain, this ain't a happy place. Sometimes I think it's haunted."   
Carl smirked and said, "You believe in ghosts?" Just when you thought you knew someone.   
"Believe in them? Hell, I've gone toe to toe with a couple in my day."   
At the base of the temple, there was an opening. It had been overgrown with vines, but it only took a couple minutes of tugging and tearing to clear them out of the way. To each side of the entrance, giant snakes had been carved into the stone. John went in and Carl started to follow. He turned to make sure Mark was following him, and saw the young man staring up the temple's face.   
"You comin', Mark?" he asked.   
Mark looked down and smiled. "Yeah, just a second. You don't get to see stuff like this every day."   
"Well, try to keep up, I'd hate for you to get lost in there." 

Mark watched Carl disappear into the darkness of the temple's entrance and when he was sure he was alone, he reached into his pocket. His hand reappeared, and it held a small black device similar to a pager. He flipped a switch on top of it and a LED light on the front began to flash rhythmically. The little black box went back into his pocket, and he walked into the temple. 

"Ah, the memories." said John. Every thing he saw reminded him of his time he had spent at Casa del Diablo. "I banged a girl named Bloody Mary in that chamber." he told Carl pointing into a room who's walls were lined with skulls. The walked past the opening to another room with what looked like a large swimming pool in the floor. "We used to fill that with blood and swim in it."   
As they walked farther into the temple, Carl began to notice a distant roaring sound. It grew louder, until it was echoing of the walls and ringing in their ears.   
"What the hell is that?" he yelled to John.   
"Under ground river. It runs right under the temple. You'll see."   
After another ten minutes of twists and turns, John led them out onto a platform over looking a rush of white water. The river was about thirty five feet wide and was moving very fast. The noise of it was deafening, and they were shouting back and forth to be heard. John pointed at a small cave entrance on the opposite side of the river and said, "It's in there."   
Carl leaned close to his ear and said, "That's nice, John, how do we get over the river?"   
"We don't. We go under it."   
He walked back a few feet and got down on his hands and knees. Taking a deep breath, he began to blow on the floor. His breath blew back the dust of ages, revealing intricate designs that had been carved into the hard rock floor. Carl watched, amazed, as images were revealed that were so fantastic, he could only guess at their meaning. There were vampires changing into dragons, and unicorns. One image showed hundreds of vampires hanging from the breasts of one very large vampire. They were nursing, drinking her blood. John continued to blow, and more was revealed. The image of a half man, half snake creature appeared. It was a picture of John.   
John sat back on his heels and wiped the dust from his nose and eyes. He pressed down on his own image with his fingertips. The piece of floor sank in a little, and a couple of feet over a piece of floor raised a little.   
"Grab that." yelled John.   
Carl grabbed the edge that was sticking up and began to gently pull on it. It came easily, turning out to be the cover for an underground chamber. When John had sufficient room to get his fingers under it, he picked up the cover and moved it away from the hole.   
"Oh, shit!" said Carl, back peddling away from the hole. Snakes began thrusting their heads up out of the hole. The vipers slid out onto the floor and slithered for cover. The hole was full of them, they writhed in one giant boiling mass of tails and heads.   
John stood up and removed his loincloth. He said, "I'll be right back." and began to change into his snake form. Twenty seconds later, he slid into the hole and disappeared into the mass of writhing snakes. 

John slid down the tunnel, unafraid. The snakes knew him and let him pass unharmed. The floor and walls vibrated with the power of the river over his head. These walls were solid, they had stood for hundreds of years, and would likely stand for hundreds more.   
He reached the end of the tunnel and pushed gently at the ceiling above him. The cover lifted, spilling dust down onto John's head. He crawled out of the hole sneezing and coughing. The opening to the little cave was only a couple feet in front of him. He slithered through it .   
The room made to hold his heart was simple, just a small stone table and an iron box. It looked exactly as he had left it three hundred and twenty years before. Dried blood still stained the stone table where Satanika Pandemonium had used a sacrificial knife to remove his still beating heart from his chest. Her bloody hand prints were still visible on the sides of the iron box. More blood stained the floor where they had made love after the operation.   
There were times that John asked himself why he ever left in the first place. He would try to imagine how different his life would have turned out if he had stayed. There was no way, John was too ambitious. He couldn't settle for staying in a dive in the middle of mexico waiting for his next victim to stumble through the door.   
The vampire clan had stayed behind and grown weak. It was only a matter of time before a human with a little killing know-how came along and wiped out the whole bunch of them. He missed them. They were the closest thing to a family he'd ever had. Since he became a vampire anyway.   
Enough of this. Now wasn't the time for a walk down memory lane. He picked up the little iron box with his misshapen, scale covered hands. The hinges were still well oiled after all this time, and didn't give off the slightest squeak when he opened the lid. Inside, his heart beat a strong rhythm, sucking in and expelling the blood it soaked in.   
It was safe. Either that bitch Persephone had been fucking with him, or he had beat her accomplices here. He took one last look around the cave, at what looked like a female ass print on the floor, and then he went back out.   
He held up the box so Carl could see it. Carl gave him a thumbs up sign and grinned. John tucked the box under his arm and went back down into the snake infested tunnel.   
"I should do something with this place." he said to himself. His plans for Hong Kong were all done for, but there was no reason he couldn't start over down here. Maybe settle down for a couple of years, let the world forget that John Sansker existed. The idea was actually kind of appealing to him.   
He raised himself out of the hole and saw Carl kneeling in front of him, his hands clasped behind his head. There were many men standing behind him with energy rifles.   
"What the fu-?"   
A gun roared behind him and John felt a bullet tear through his brain. 

Words began to form out of the darkness around John, and he strained to understand them. He heard a moaning sound and realized a few seconds later that it was himself who was making the noise.   
"Jesus Christ, Adam!" he heard Mark say. "How hard is this to understand? Every time he starts to come around or move, you shoot him again!"   
Another gunshot, and he sank into the darkness once more. 

"No, it's ok. Let him come around." Mark sounded like he was close by. John focused on his voice and got ready to lunge for it. He jerked his arms, and found that he couldn't move. Consciousness came in a rush, and he snapped completely awake.   
"You might as well relax, John. Those cuffs were made for people a lot stronger than you, so you're not going anywhere."   
John was laying on his side, his hands bound behind him. His feet were shackled with a devise that kept them slightly separated. There were twenty men in the room, and they all smelled like vampires to John. Wait, not that one. He spied a man in the crowd wearing a pair of night vision goggles. He was human.   
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mark?"   
Mark squatted down on his haunches and said, "The same thing I've been doing for four years. Stealing your heart."   
Through gritted teeth, John said, "When I found you, you were starving, living on the streets. I give you a home, feed you, give you the chance to be more than a street rat sucking the blood out of cats and bums. This is how you repay me?"   
"An hour before you saved me from the streets I was clinking glasses with close friends at Twistelli's in New York. They toasted me and my endeavor, and then I made my good-bye's. A change of clothes and a little motor oil wiped in my hair and I became your charity case. Face it, John, you've been duped."   
"I'll kill you." said John. "You will bleed for this, long and hard. Those friends of yours? I'm going to take their intestines and strangle you with them."   
Mark laughed at him. "You just don't get it, do you? I have your heart. Pretty soon, it will be my heart. I'll have your powers, your strength, your speed. And you? You're going to be dead."   
"You did this all because you wanted to be as fast and strong as me? Just what do you think an unimaginative little shit like you could do with these powers? Deliver pizza in thirty minutes or less?"   
"I did all this because I'm sick of your pussified attempts at ruling the world. I'm sick of seeing you go on tv and try to convince the world to like you. Who cares if they like you? If you would have lead us like you were supposed to, we could have ruled over them. Instead we drink blood behind closed closet doors and beg them to accept us. I took your heart because I want to rule the vampire nation, and with it, the world. I just don't want to wait for a thousand years to get as powerful as you."   
"You don't have what it takes to lead the vampires, Mark. The first time they see you flinch at the sight of blood, they'll tear you to pieces. "   
Mark got to his feet and backed away from John. "Soon, they will not call me Mark anymore. They will call me Dracul. I will be the new Dragon that you could never be. And as for my bloodthirstiness, how does this suit you?" He dropped to one knee next to where Carl was kneeling. He reached into Carl's boot and pulled out the Spear of Destiny. In one flood movement, he slashed Carl's throat, and drove the spear head into his heart.   
John roared, his voice somewhere between his human one and that of the snake. Carl coughed, spraying blood and smoke from his wounds. His eyes locked on John's and then Carl slumped forward onto his face.   
"You're fucking dead! I'll rip your head off, I'll shit down you neck! You're fucking hamburger when I'm done with you!" He strained against his bonds, his muscles bulging and knotting.   
Mark watched him with an amused expression on his face. "You're not getting out of those." he said. "They're standard issue Shadow Strikers inhibitor cuffs."   
"The Vampire Nation still supports me, you little cur." John spit at him. "You're the reason that Hong Kong failed. They'll kill you when they've heard what you've done."   
"They will only know what I tell them, which is that the UN killed you. I'll tell them of how you made me swear that I would avenge you. Yeah, they'll be plenty pissed. Probably mad enough to follow me into war."   
Mark approached John, the spear head held at his side. "Be happy, John, you get to die for your people. In the years to come, you'll be revered as a patriot, as a hero."   
John rolled away from him, flopping over onto his back and shoving himself away from Mark.   
"Mommy vampires will point at your statue," continued Mark. " and they'll say to the little baby vampires, "Now there is a great man. He died for the cause." Don't you want the little baby vampires to like you, John?"   
"Get the fuck away from me." shouted John. He curled his legs up to his chest and then thrust them out. They narrowly missed Mark, but it was enough to make the younger man back off. John did a back roll and came up standing on his feet. He wobbled, trying to keep his balance. He was all too aware of the rushing river at his back. One more step and he would fall in.   
"That's the problem with you," said Mark. "you're always thinking about yourself. You don't even care about the little baby vampires, do you?" He stepped forward and swiped with the spear head. John bent his knees and pushed as hard as he could. He shot out across the river, Mark's cut missing him by inches. His body convulsed and then went rigid. He hit the freezing water of the river, and felt paralysis take over his body. Unable to kick or swim, he sank like a stone beneath the rushing water. 

"I really wish he hadn't done that." said Mark as he stared at the spot where John had disappeared.   
"We could make Adam go get him." said one of the other vampires "He ain't a vampire, so he can cross moving water."   
Mark looked at him like he was crazy. "Did your momma drop you on your head? That water would kill anybody! You're a fucking idiot. Let's go"   
They left the temple, Mark going slowly so that he could walk next to Adam.   
"You did good in there." he said. "I'm sorry if I yelled at you. If Sansker had gotten up before we got the cuffs on him, it could have gone badly."   
"It's ok." said Adam as he pulled off his night vision goggles. Adam was an albino, and his eyes were a pale pink color. His long white hair had been braided into thick dreads and and pulled back away from his face. He looked youthful, but there was no real way to judge his age. "I could have taken him, you know."   
"I know." said Mark. "This worked out for the best, though. There will be plenty for you to do in the coming weeks."   
They entered the transport, and Mark began to strip off his clothes. A woman in a nurse's uniform brought soap, washcloths, and water and began to wash the dirt and grime from his body. In the next room, doctors were preparing an operating table.   
The transport lifted off and turned west while a two thousand year old temple was once again left in silence. 

**Hong Kong- 6-13-2200** "Hello. This is Nancy Holden reporting from Hong Kong. The UN's decision regarding the Vampire Nation was handed down today. As you can see directly behind me, troops are moving into Hong Kong with the intention of turning it into a police state." Behind Nancy, waves of Gunships and APC's were landing on the streets. Hatches were opening, and troops poured out of them.   
"We have here UN Colonel Lionel Brighton. Colonel, what can you tell us about the United Nation's decision?"   
"It was decided late last night that Hong Kong would no longer be governed by the Vampire Nation, and we intend to enforce that decision here today. The leadership of the Vampire nation is directly responsible for two terrorist attacks in Hong Kong over the last week, and possibly a third. They have gone into hiding, leaving the city with out any form of government. Until another can be established, we will be the government in Hong Kong. I want to make something very clear here, this is not a war against Vampire's or S.A.P.s as they prefer to be called. This is a police action against the leaders of the Vampire Nation."   
"Is that what you really believe, Colonel?"   
The Colonel looked at her for a second, like he wasn't quite expecting that question. "Don't you want to know how we plan to enforce the police state, Miss Holden?"   
"No." said Nancy. "I want to know if you really believe that this isn't a war against Vampires."   
"Look," said the Colonel. "We discussed what we would talk about in this interview, I am not interested in giving my personal opinions on the subject. I have a job to do, and I intend to do it to the best of my ability."   
"Well," said Nancy. "If you won't share your opinions, I'll share mine. I think you're full of shit."   
Her voice began to deepen.   
"I think that the point of this police state is the genocide of the Vampire people."   
Her hair began to turn darker and shorten in length.   
"And last but not least, I think you have four seconds to live."   
The Colonel backed away from her as she reached into her jacket. The changes in her appearance continued, and a second later, she was a he. The Colonel raised his hands up and screamed for help. Mark raised the energy pistol in his hand and opened fire. The Colonel's chest exploded, and gunfire erupted from the rooftops up and down the street. The UN troops were caught out in the open and were cut down in the deadly crossfire.   
Mark turned to the camera and said, "The oppression stops here, ladies and gentlemen. We will not be rounded up, we will not be herded into concentration camps, and we will not go quietly into the night! They've murdered John Sansker for trying to protect you, we will not let them take any more. The Vampire Nation is ready for war. To the United Nations I say, if you want Hong Kong, come and get it."   
A rocket launched off a building behind him and struck one of the APC's. It exploded in a ball of flame, throwing bodies and punching holes in the buildings nearby. As the fire ball barreled up the street, Mark Trevors smiled and let it wash over him. The screen went blank. 

**Del Rey, Mexico-** Tim Wyatt took a moment from his jack-knife fishing to look out the mouth of the little harbor and watch the sunset. The ocean was turned to a crimson so dark, it was almost black, while the sky was set afire in shades of red and yellow. He could still feel the heat of the day's sun in the rocks beneath his bare feet, and it felt good to his old bones. It was perfect. It would have been perfect anyway, if it wasn't for the persistent barking of that fucking dog.   
"Sparky!" he shouted. "Shut the hell up before I come over there and kick you!"   
The dog quite barking, for all of twenty-two seconds. Then it took it back up where it had left off. Tim shook his head and went back to his fishing. He leaned down over the tide pool, careful not to let his shadow fall on the water. He sat perfectly still, waiting for a fish to decide it would be safe to come out in the open.   
"This is the life." he thought. He had money coming out of his asshole, but could live quite happily without it. He couldn't even remember the last time he had actually had to buy something, excepting toiletries and booze, of course. He pulled his meals out of the ocean every day, and traded fish to his neighbor for vegetables. He didn't have any women complaining about the way he kept house or that he needed to shave the gray stubble covering the lower half of his face. He was happy. It was perfect. Except for the fucking dog, that is.   
"Sparky, goddamnit! I can't concentrate if you keep doing that! Shut up!"   
The dog persisted, and Tim decided he'd had just about enough. He got up off the rocks and picked up his bucket of fish.   
"What in the hell is your problem, ya hair-brain?" The dog began running in circles around a tide pool, barking more urgently now that Tim was coming over. Tim could see what the problem was now. There was a body floating face up in the tide pool. They lived in a community of criminals, a body washing up on the shore was not an unusual occurence. Still, it was more trouble than he wanted in his evening.   
Tim made his way down a steep rock to the edge of the tide pool so he could get a better look at the dearly departed and see if it was anyone he knew. The man floating in the pool was naked, and covered with strange tattoos. He didn't look familiar. He was wearing a pair of shackles on his legs, and the way his arms were bent made Tim think that maybe he was handcuffed as well.   
Taking care not to fall in, he stepped out onto a rock in the middle of the tide pool and grabbed one of the corpse's arms. He floated it to the edge of the tide pool, and then dragged it up onto the rocks. He wasn't interested in hauling it back to town, but he could at least get the body up out of the tide line so it wasn't washed away before one of the Del Rey boys came to get it. Securing a handhold under each arm, he dragged it up past the rocks and onto the little sand beach.. He dropped it for a moment so he could catch his breath.   
By looking at the body, he couldn't be entirely sure of how it had died. It was pretty severely burned all over, and he could see a good sized wound in the corpse's side. It looked like somebody had tried to stitch the wound at some point.   
"Help me." said the corpse.   
Tim jumped out of his skin and fell back away from the man. Sparky came racing up snarling and snapping at the man who had frightened his master.   
"Help." the man said and opened his eyes. "Need help."   
Tim was shivering, he couldn't tell whether it was from fear or excitement. "Ok, buddy. Just stay right here. I'm going to go get you some help, ok?"   
With Sparky at his heels, he raced toward town.   
"Help." muttered the man on the beach, and then he closed his eyes. 

* * *

The Snake Pit   
I welcome all letters and criticisms. Sound off if you got a pair, I want to hear what you think!

**No letters this time due to my complete and total lack of patience (sorry B Better and VhD, couldn't wait anymore)**

* * *

  
Well, that's another issue, thanks for taking the time to read it. As always, if you liked this story, you might like my others, check them out at my site, [Bad Monkey Comics!!!][2]   
If you have any comments or curse words, e-mail me at [bcampo@hotmail.com][1] I welcome all comments and criticisms, but ask if you are going to tell me I suck, tell me why I suck (yeah, that sounded funny to me too.)   
By the way, I will probably print any letters I get next issue, so if you don't want yours printed, let me know.   
  
  
  
  


   [1]: mailto:bcampo@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo



	7. a change of heart part five

Sansker 2200

# 7

By [Brian Campo][1] ( bcampo@hotmail.com ) 

Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction**. Sansker and all Spawn related characters are owned by Todd McFarlane productions and I do not contest that ownership. This story is in no way official, and should be taken as seriously as kids playing Spawn in their backyards. Please, do not sue me, I am hardly worth it :) 

Warning: This story contains harsh language and **EXTREMELY ** graphic violence. If you are easily offended, or think your mom might drop a load of hurt on you for reading this, don't. Consider yourself warned. 

**-A change of heart part five******

**Del Rey, Mexico-** John awoke with the dusk, and knew right away that something wasn't right. It wasn't anything he could put his finger on, just a feeling in his gut that all wasn't right in the world. He sat up on the rickety little cot he had been sleeping in and looked around the room. There didn't seem to be any immediate danger. It looked like he was in a basement or cellar of some sort. How he got there, he hadn't the foggiest.   
He remembered the confrontation in the temple. He remembered Carl being murdered. He remembered his suicidal leap into the underground river. After that, it was just a big blank spot in his memory.   
He threw his legs over the side of the cot and got to his feet. Nearby, someone had laid a suit of clothes over the back of a chair. They looked like they might fit. He got dressed, noticing that the clothes looked to be a couple of decades out of style. It didn't matter, he was grateful to whoever had left them for him.   
When he finished dressing, he began to look for a way out of the room. The room itself seemed to be the receptacle for about fifty years worth of junk. It stood in stacks that reached the ceiling, and filled shelves on all the walls. If there were windows, they had to be behind one of the piles, because John couldn't see any. The room was so dark, that if it weren't for his vampiric vision, he wouldn't have been able to see at all.   
He carefully wove his way through the stacks of junk until he found a stair case leading up. He went up the stairs and saw a sign hanging on the door. On closer inspection, he saw that it said, "It's night, it's safe for you to come up."   
He opened the door and found himself facing a kitchen with a small dinner table. An older man sat at the table, smoking what looked like a bong and playing solitaire. He looked up when John opened the door.   
"So, the unholy abomination living in my basement finally decided to resurrect itself." He grinned broadly. "Hi, my names Tim Wyatt."   
"Jean St. Claire." said John, a little uncertain.   
"That's a mouthful of a name you got there. Can I call you John?"   
John closed the door to the basement behind him and pulled up a chair at the table. "John would be just fine." he said. "How did I get here?"   
The dog sitting to the left of Tim was staring at John suspiciously. He looked like he trusted John about as far as he could throw him.   
"We found you floating in a tide pool down at the beach. You were too big to carry, so I ran to my house and got my jeep. I brought you back here to the house two nights ago, and you've been sleeping in the basement every since. Had to pull out all the old tricks of my trade to get those cuffs off you, by the way."   
Those were state of the art cuffs, thought John. Just what kind of trade was this guy involved in where he could remove Shadow Striker inhibitor cuffs? "You...took care of me?"   
"As well as I could." said Tim. "Once I figured out what it is you were, I realized that I didn't have the first clue as to how to take care of you. I've just kept you out of the sunlight and been trying to get blood into you as often as I can."   
"I feel just fine. Blood?"   
"Yeah." said Tim. "Chicken's blood. I've been getting them, alive, down at the market in Del Rey. I cut their heads off and drained them into your mouth. Didn't know what else to do."   
"You did just fine." said John. "You saved my life."   
"Don't worry about it. You brought a little excitement to this old man's otherwise boring life."   
"Well, I thank you, Mr. Wyatt. I'm sure you must have a thousand questions..."   
Tim laughed at him and said, "You're in Del Rey, son. We don't ask questions here."   
"What's Del Rey?"   
"This little pimple on the ass of the world. It's where old criminals go to retire and live off their loot. Three things you learn when you come here. You don't make deals with anybody, cause they're all crooked, and you don't ask questions. Whatever you've done, no matter how bad it is, there's probably someone here who has you beat."   
John doubted that, but was glad he wouldn't have to do any explaining. He felt himself warming to this old man already.   
"Do you think you could stand a little to drink?" asked Tim.   
John's stomach grumbled in reply. Maybe that was what he needed. He felt run down, tired. "Sure." said John. "That would be great."   
Tim sat his bong down and got up from the table. As he went out through the back door in the kitchen, John looked around the room. On the walls, there were pictures of a man dressed in a one of those strange costumes that used to be so popular in the super hero and super villian crowd. John realized that the man in the pictures was his host, minus thirty years and twenty pounds. In one picture he wore a pair of gloves that were emitting bolts of lightning. In another, a woman in a skimpy costume was hanging off of his shoulder, smiling. She held a bullwhip in her hand and it was wrapped around his waist. There were newspaper clipping mixed in, detailing Tim Wyatt's life of crime. The man was displaying this stuff as proudly as one would display old trophies.   
Tim came back in, holding a squawking chicken by the feet. He carried it to the sink and pulled a filet knife out of a drawer. "The neighbors are starting to think I'm doing voodoo over here." he told John. He sliced the chicken's head off and began to drain the blood into a large beer mug. "I keep telling them that I got a hankering for fried chicken." He dropped the rest of the chicken in the garbage disposal and flipped the switch. As he turned to walk to the table, feathers exploded out of the sink behind him.   
"Why? Doesn't anyone know I'm here?"   
"No, sir. The third thing they tell you when you come here is "No child killers, and no goddamn vampires". It's in the town laws or something. Once I figured out that was what you were, I kept you secret. There are some bad types in town that don't like your kind."   
"It seems I need to thank you again, Mr. Wyatt."   
"No need, just be careful. Those bad types are assholes, anyway. They give decent criminals like me a bad name." Tim slid the mug of blood to John, who began to sipped at it hungrily.   
"Do you have a phone?" John asked between drinks.   
"Nope. Nobody I want to talk to." said Tim. "Gussie's, the bar in town does. I can drive you there later if you want."   
"That's all right." said John. "I wouldn't want someone to see you with me and get you in trouble. If you point me in the right direction, I can walk."   
"Suit yourself. I can show you the way when you're ready."   
Half an hour later, they stood on Wyatt's front porch.   
"Can't miss it." Tim was saying. "It's a big place with a light up sign."   
"Well, thank you, Mr. Wyatt. Once I make this phone call, I will be able to get some money, and I would like to pay you for your troubles."   
"Bullshit." said the old man. "It wasn't no trouble. You get where you're goin' in one piece and we'll call it even. And no more swimming in shackles and handcuffs, it just isn't safe."   
"I'll try to keep that in mind." said John, and he held out his hand to shake Tim's. A very strange thing happened. Tim reached out and grabbed his hand in a firm grip and shook it. Usually, if someone knew what John was, there was always a hesitation to shake his hand, and an involuntary recoil at his touch. Not with Tim. They shook like old friends.   
"Take care of yourself, John."   
John thanked him again, then walked down the steps and out into the street. The old man called his dog to follow, and then disappeared into his house. 

Gussie's was every bit as classy as it sounded. It was good for about two things, getting drunk and starting fights. John had seen a couple thousand of these little dives in his lifetime, and they were all the same. Two bit shit holes, every one.   
There was a pretty decent crowd inside for this early in the evening, and they all gave John the eye when he pushed his way through the bars double swinging doors. One very large man in a red flannel shirt looked at John like he was something he had wiped off of his boot once. John hoped it was because of his apparent bad taste in clothes, not because he recognized him. He was still feeling too tired to be getting in any scuffles.   
"What can I get you?" asked the bartender when John walked up to the bar.   
"I need to use your phone."   
"The phone is for paying customers. You gonna buy a drink?"   
"If you let me use your phone, I will even leave a very large tip."   
The bartender slid him the phone and then walked down to the other end of the bar. John picked up the receiver and dialed Jacob Moore, his lawyer. A secretary answered and asked how she could help him.   
"I'd like to speak to Jacob Moore." said John. "This is Jean St. Claire calling."   
"One moment." said the secretary and John was placed on hold. When the phone was picked up on the other end, Jacob said, "John?"   
"Yeah, Jake, how's it going?"   
"Jesus Christ, John." said Jacob in an excited whisper. "Everyone is saying that you're dead!"   
"I won't be cliché," said John. "so I'll just say they're full of shit. I'm guessing you've heard from Mark?"   
"Not personally, but he's all over the news. He said that the UN had killed you. He's started a war in Hong Kong, John."   
"I'll be damned." said John. "He's gotten a lot farther than I would have expected him to. He fucked me over but good. He was the person working with Persephone the whole time."   
"That little bastard." said Jacob.   
"Yeah, that was what I thought. The son of a bitch killed Carl. Stole my heart, too. Anyway I look at it, I'm pretty much fucked."   
Silence for a moment. "I'm sorry to hear about Carl. He was a good man, and I know you cared for him."   
"I appreciate that, Jake. I'm trying not to even think about it. I just keep focusing on what I'm going to do to Mark when I get my hands on him."   
"What do you want to do? What do you need from me?"   
"Right now, I need a transport and a bundle of cash Maybe a suit of clothes produced in the last five years."   
"I can do that. Where are you?"   
"That's the deal. I need you to send a pilot who can keep his mouth shut. The people that run this town would rather that the world didn't know they were here, and on top of that, they really don't like people of the nocturnal persuasion."   
"Don't worry about it, John. I'll get someone discreet. Now, where are you?"   
"Del Rey, Mexico. It's on the east coast, I believe."   
"Ok, got it. You just sit tight, John, I should be able to get someone to you within a couple of hours."   
"I'll do that." said John. "Thanks, Jacob."   
"That's what I'm here for. Take care of yourself."   
John slid the phone back to the bartender and asked for a bottle of whisky. "Start a tab, " John told him. "put a thousand dollars at the top of it. Subtract all my drinks from it, and when my transport gets here in a couple of hours, whatever is left is yours."   
The bartender liked the sound of that. He slid John a bottle and a shot glass.   
John held up his first shot and said, "To old friends long gone."   
The bartender poured himself a mug of beer and held it up in the air with John. "And to the friends we will make."   
"No, no. " said John. "New friends are no good. You can't trust them. Stick with the old ones until they're all used up, and then you're all alone. To old friends long gone." He tossed back the shot and poured another while the bartender took a long pull off of his mug.   
"To loves long lost." he said and the bartender joined him in another drink.   
"To youthful ideals long forgotten." was his next toast, and the bartender snorted.   
"I didn't have any ideals in my youth." he said.   
"That doesn't surprise me in the least. This will be a two part toast, To youthful ideals long forgotten and for you, The bliss of ignorance."   
They drank together once again, the bartender looking like he was trying to decide if he had been insulted. Behind John, the man in the red flannel shirt shoved his chair away from his table and stood up. He crossed the room and stopped at John's right arm.   
"I know you, don't I?" said the man.   
John turned his head and looked the man up and down. "Don't think so."   
"You're that guy they're always talking about on the news, aren't you? That vampire that killed all those people."   
"You got the wrong guy, I'm afraid. " John turned back to the bartender and raised his glass. "To first kisses and last lingering looks."   
The bartender drank to that and John joined him.   
The rasp of steel got John's attention. He looked back at the man in flannel, who had pulled a foot long Bowie knife out from behind his back. "Sanka? Is that your name? I know it's something like that."   
"No, that's bad tasting coffee. I'm just another drunk, mister. Why don't you put your pig sticker away before you hurt somebody."   
The man with the knife moved it a little closer to John's face. John raised another full shot glass.   
"To the look in the asshole's eyes when he realizes that he's in over his head. If you don't get that knife out of my face, I'm going to stick it so far up your ass it's going to part your hair."   
The man with the knife grinned big and wide, enjoying the fact that he was getting John's goat. "I wonder what kind of bounty they got out on a little blood sucking sack of shit like you."   
John sat his glass down on the bar, and lower his left hand behind his back. He flexed it, and extended his claws.   
At least that was what he intended to do.   
His claws didn't extend. The man with the knife slugged him in the side of the head, and the world did cartwheels around him. He fell back off of his stool and landed on his back with a crash.   
What the fuck is going on? he thought in a panicked little voice.   
The knife wielder threw the stool out of the way and stepped toward John with his knife raised. John reached up and grabbed the edge of the bar. He used it to pull himself to his feet just as the man with the knife closed in on him. John threw a punch at his chest that would have usually splattered the man's heart across the back wall of the bar. It jarred him a little, but that was all. The knife whistled as it cut the air, and John felt a stinging across the forearm he held out in from of him.   
John grabbed the whisky bottle next to him by the neck and busted it over the bar. The man in the flannel looked a little more wary now, but was still more than willing to keep coming. John backed away from him with the broken bottle end held out in front of him. He was doing his very damnedest to stay calm. He had known from the moment he awoke that something wasn't right. It was his powers, they were gone. He wasn't any faster or stronger than a human.   
The man with the knife made an over handed lunge at John, with every intention of driving his knife into John's chest. John stepped to the left and grabbed the man's knife hand with his left hand. He threw his weight into the man's side and drove him into the bar. The hand with the knife was shoving back against him, and he strained to keep it from coming up. He jerked up his right hand and shoved the broken whiskey bottle through the man's throat. The knife hand twitched for a moment and then began to slowly relax. Blood began to pour out the end of the broken bottle. John's legs trembled, and he thought he might fall down.   
"Just what the fuck was that all about?" he wondered aloud.   
"I think he thought you were someone else." said the bartender. "I don't know. It's clear enough to me that you aren't a vampire."   
John shoved the body up onto the bar and rolled it over onto it's belly. The head flopped over the edge of the bar, and blood began to drip on the floor.   
"I mean, aren't vampires supposed to be really fast? Super strong, too."   
John held his shot glass under the dripping bottle end and filled it with blood. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too." he said as he tossed back his shot. The bartender's eye's widened as John licked a small droplet of blood off of the corner of his mouth.   
"You mean you're a...?"   
"That's right. " said John. "You've been sharing drinks with a bloodsucking son of a bitch."   
The doors to the bar clacked together loudly and John heard somebody running down the street outside.   
"I'd get out of here, Mister." said the bartender. His voice had that strained sound like when someone was trying to keep from dropping a load in their shorts. "That was one of the Gecko boys that just ran out the door, and I'm guessing that he's going to be back with his brothers. They really don't like vampires very much at all."   
"Are they big guys?" asked John, looking a little worried. He wasn't feeling so good. He felt...weak. Sluggish.   
"No, but they have lots of guns, and they're good with 'em."   
John sat down his shot glass and stared thoughtfully at the door. He turned back to the bartender and said, "You got a gun back there behind the bar?"   
"Look, Mister, I don't want any trouble in here. Why don't you head on out before the Geckos get here and tear the place up. I'm telling you, they're bad news, and you don't want no part of them."   
"If you've got a gun, I'll add another thousand to the tab."   
"I'll give you the gun if you will just get out of here."   
"Done." said John and held out his hand for the gun. The bartender slapped a .44 magnum into his palm and John started for the front door. The sounds of shouts coming up the street stopped him in his tracks. After a moment's thought, he turned and walked back to the bar.   
"You got a back door to this place?" he asked and sat the gun down on the counter. The bartender pointed at a sign in back that said, "Rest rooms"   
"The service entrance is back there. Hurry up, I think they're almost here."   
John left the gun where it lay and ran to the back of the bar. As he disappeared around the corner into a narrow hallway, he heard the front doors of the bar slam open and someone shout, "Where is he?" He spotted a door with an exit sign above it, and shoved his way through it. He found himself in a garbage strewn alley populated by a pack of hungry dogs that scattered at the sound of his approach.. He turned to the left and ran as fast as he could in his diminished state. He was rounding the end of the block when he heard voices coming out of the back entrance to the bar. 

Two and a half hours later, John heard the whine of transport turbines, and he came out of his hiding place. The transport flew in from off of the Gulf and it circled the town a couple of times before landing a little west of John. He stuck to back alleys and side streets as he made his way to it, trying his best not to be seen by anyone. When he got to it, he saw that it had landed in the parking lot for a grocery store. He waited for several minutes in the shadows of a building until he was sure that no one was watching the transport. Satisfied that he could cross to it without being attacked, he made a desperate dash for the craft. The pilot lowered the ramp as John got close, and John ran inside.   
"Let's go!" he told the pilot, and started smacking the close button on the door with his palm. The pilot wound the engines up and lifted off.   
"Is there a problem, Mr. Carsen?" asked the pilot once they were in the air.   
"No, no problem." said John as he looked out the window at the town below. "I just ran away from a fight for the first time in eleven hundred years, but I don't have a problem with it. Do you?"   
"No, sir." said the pilot. "Anywhere in particular you are wanting to go?"   
"Yeah, I need to get to New Orleans."   
"New Orleans it is." said the pilot, and he turned the craft back toward the Gulf. 

At first glance, the man who answered the door might be taken as a black man, but that would be an incorrect assumption. He was of a breed of people that predated all others, including Negroes and every other race. To say he was human was almost an incorrect assumption. He had some of the genetic makeup of a human, because his kind began in the same place, but his ancestors had taken a different evolutionary route than ours, leaving him with a very different heritage. At a passing glance, he would have passed for one of us, but with a little study, the differences could be seen. The way his eyes twinkled from some unknown light source, or the fact that his shadow didn't quite match his shape. The timbre of his voice was off just enough to make you wonder if you were imagining things when you kept expecting his words to dissolve into bird song. Once upon a time, one of our ancestors reasoned that if we banged two rocks together we might fashion a weapon. His ancestors just thought to kindly ask the rock to take the shape of a weapon.   
"John?" he asked, incredulous at the sight of John Sansker standing in his doorway of his New Orleans home. "My God, man, what abominable act has brought you to my doorstep?"   
"Just spit it out." said John. "If you want to know what the fuck I'm doing here, just ask me what the fuck I'm doing here. You always have to be so wordy, Charles. No one ever knows what the hell you're talking about."   
"Fine. What the fuck are you doing here?"   
"Relax, Charlie, I know what you're worried about. I'm not here to collect any debts. Believe it or not, I just need your help."   
"Since when does Big John Sansker need help from my kind? I don't trust you, and I say piss off. If you think I'm going to invite you over my doorstep, you got another thought coming, friend, and here it is, piss off."   
John stepped through the door way uninvited. "You put way too much stock in old wives tales, Charlie. A vampire doesn't have to be invited in. Humans just tell themselves that so they can sleep at night. Relax, Charlie. I intend to leave you completely unharmed. Now, can we sit and talk, or do I have to spend the evening trying to convince you that I intend you no harm?   
"I don't trust you, John Sansker."   
"So you have stated," said John. "please, sit. We'll talk."   
Charlie backed around a coffee table and sat down on a sofa, never taking his eyes off John. John sat in the opposite chair and tried to appear non threatening. The furniture in the dark man's room was comfortable, but looked just a little strange, like maybe the wood it was made of hadn't stopped growing yet. Come back in a five years and the rocking chair might have become a love seat. Ten years more and you might have a sofa.   
"What do you want?" asked Charles.   
"Conversational skills, Charlie. Learn them." said John. "You spend too much time alone. You need to learn how to speak to people. Here, I'll help you. So, John, how have you been?"   
Charlie looked more than a little put out, but he had known John long enough to know that he would have to play out this game until John grew bored of it. "So, John, how have you been?"   
"Could be better." said John. "I've had a rough couple of weeks, Charlie. Thank you for asking."   
"What do you want?"   
"Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless." said John, shaking his head. "I lost my heart. I've lost all my power. The boy that took my heart killed my friend of two hundred and sixty years and has started a war between vampires and humans. On top of all that, I think I might be dying. Was that to the point enough for you?"   
Charles stared at John for a moment while the words sunk in. Then he started to laugh. "You are dying, and you want me to help you?" He sat back in his chair and laughed uproariously. "My, God, man, why would I do that? I think that you dying would be the best thing to happen to the world in twelve hundred years. I just wish I could feel that I somehow contributed to your demise."   
"I wouldn't be surprised if you had." said John. "It seems that everyone else and their sister was in on it."   
"No powers, you say?" asked Charles, trying to stifle his chuckles..   
"No." said John. "I feel like I'm running through cold molasses all the time, and my strength has gone all to shit, too."   
Charles suddenly sat forward and delivered a swift right to John's left eye. John's head snapped back and he had to fight to keep from blacking out.   
"What the hell was that for?" he shouted, clutching at an eye that felt like it was going to blacken.   
"That was for fucking my wife, you son of a bitch. Did you think I didn't know?"   
"I don't know what you're talking about!" said John, doing his best to sound offended. "I never touched your wife."   
"Bullshit." said Charles. "1822. I was working in England when you decided to drop by here at the house. Don't deny it. I used a truth spell on my wife, and she told me everything. I tell you, if it wasn't for those blasted tattoos of yours, you would have dropped dead years ago."   
"Three hundred and eighty years, Charlie. Christ, doesn't anyone forgive and forget anymore? It was an afternoon shag, and she was more than willing. It's not like you didn't dip it in other pools while you were out on the road."   
"You infected her, John." said Charles. "I found her hiding in the root cellar living off of the blood of rats. And stop calling me Charlie, it has always annoyed the shit out of me."   
It was several minutes before John broke the silence. "I'm sorry." he said. "I was wrong."   
"What?" said Charles. "Do my ears deceive me? John is sorry?"   
"Oh, bite me. I said I was sorry, what else do you want from me?" Those words felt as unnatural for John to say as they were for Charles to hear. It wasn't often that John Sansker apologized for his actions.   
"Canceling debts would be a nice start."   
"Done." said John.   
"Not just to you. I want all of Black Madagascar's claims to my soul dropped."   
"I'll take care of it." said John, feeling it was best to leave out the fact that Black Madagascar had been dead for one hundred and seventy years. Charles seemed to be under a lot of stress, and finding out that he had been worrying unnecessarily for a century and a half would only make matters worse.   
"If I help you, I won't ever hear from you again, will I?"   
"Charles, we're very old friends. You wouldn't want me to visit?"   
"If I never think about you again for the rest of my life, I will die a happy man. You cannot possibly fathom how much I hate you."   
"At much as it hurts to hear you say that, if you help me, it will be the last you will ever see of me."   
Charles studied him for a moment and then said, "Keeping tradition with all the other stupid choices I've made with you, I'm going to believe you. Where is your heart?"   
"Charles, you're the best." said John. "A young upstart of a vampire stole it, and I think he's had it surgically implanted into himself."   
"I don't even want to know how it happened." said Charles. "It probably involves you doing a lot of things that you shouldn't have which would influence me not to help you. The fact of the matter is, you are right, you are dying. If you do not get your heart back from the gentleman that has borrowed it, you will get weaker and weaker until you die. The heart is adapting to him, so you are no longer drawing power from it. You are losing any claim you have to it every second that it is in his body."   
"How am I supposed to fight him? He has all the strength and speed that I used to have. He'll tear me to pieces in two seconds flat."   
"All I can tell you, is that you weren't always that fast or strong. You found a way to stay alive up 'til now, you'll find a way this time. What you really need is some time to think about it, and that is something that I can give you. Only a little bit, mind you, so I wouldn't be taking any vacations on the way to where you are going."   
"What do you have to do?" asked John.   
"A little voodoo. All I need is a little hair from you."   
Charles wasn't somebody that you just casually handed over your personal stuff to. It was rumored that a guy named Job once dropped a hair into Charles' mutton stew and he got a little angry over it. Sansker wasn't eager to give Charles some of his hair, but he did anyway.   
Carefully pinching the hairs between his fingers, Charles stood up and motioned for John to follow him. They went downstairs to the basement of the house where Charles kept all his magic makings and workings. John gave him room to work, standing back and taking in the magical memorabilia through out the room.   
Charles would stop every few minutes to tell him, "Don't touch that." and then go back to his work. After half an hours work, he told John to come closer, which he did. He pointed at a crudely made voodoo doll lying on his work table and said, "That's you."   
"Ok." said John.   
"You don't believe me, do you?"   
"Well." said John, shrugging his shoulders. "It looks like a lump of mud with some hair and sticks for arms."   
"This will only work if you really believe in the doll, John." Charles picked up a six inch long needle off of the table and stabbed the doll in the leg. John shrieked in agony and fell onto the floor.   
"Mother of God!' he screamed, clutching at his leg. "Stop it, Charles! Stop!"   
"Do you believe this is you?" asked Charles.   
"Yes!" said John. "Now stop doing that!"   
Charles withdrew the needle and sat it down on the table. "Get off the floor, John. You look like a fool."   
John pulled himself up off the floor and looked like he was considering murder. Charles was reaching into a nearby cage ad pulling out a large black rat. From one of the drawers in his work table, he pulled out a zip lock baggy and some chloroform. He dropped the rat into the bag, soaked a rag in chloroform and dropped it in with the rat. A few minutes later, the rat was laying motionless in the sealed bag. Charles removed it from the bag and laid it out spread eagle on his work table. Another drawer was opened, and he removed from it a hobby knife, which he used to cut open the chest cavity of the rat. The rats heart was still beating, although not very fast. He quickly severed the veins, arteries and other tissue surrounding the tiny beating heart and pulled the organ out of the rat's body. He turned to the John's voodoo doll and used his thumb to make a deep cavity in it's chest. Murmuring an incantation, he lowered the heart into the hole, and then pulled the surrounding mud over the hole, covering it.   
"There you have it." he said to John. "For a short time, Heartless John has a heart. I would not waste one second from this moment forward. The spell will not last for long."   
"You gave me the heart of a rat." said John, more than a little disgusted.   
"I hope you are appreciating the irony of that like I am. Now, I believe you have things to do, and frankly, I can't wait to be rid of you. Good bye, John."   
John stared at the tiny doll laying on the table for a moment and then said, "Good bye, Charles. Don't let anything happen to that, ok?"   
Charles got up from his stool and lead John back up the stairs and out the front door. "By the way," he told John. "should you get any headaches or diarrhea, that's probably me just working off a little frustration. Nothing to worry about." He shut the door in John's face and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. 

**For the conclusion to this series read [The Dragon 2200][2] [# 9,][3] [#10,][4] and [# 11][5]**

* * *

The Snake Pit   
I welcome all letters and criticisms. Sound off if you got a pair, I want to hear what you think!

Poor John Sansker   
It´s hard to be a bloodthirsty vampire nowadays.   
It´s funny how religious fanatics can make a killer like Sansker seem like the good guy! Still there´s not much to   
say about # 3. They came, they saw, they got their ass kicked!   
I´ll give #3 7 out of 10 

Am I wrong if I say that the house of the devil is the same place as in from Dusk till Dawn:" the titty twister". I   
like it!! It´s always funny when you put stuff like that in a story.   
John finally hit rock bottom going from leader of the Vampire Nation to presumed "dead". The funny thing is that it   
was pretty much what he wanted after being exposed in the first miniseries. Of course he problably would have   
done it a little less painfull and with his heart safe but then again; Now he's got someone to look forward killing.   
what can I say: I´ll give it 9 out of 10. 

B Better 

** I do my best, thank you. With # 3 I was trying to bring a little vulnerability to the invincable Sansker, and also show there was a reason why he let Mark and Carl tag along with him. I see you also caught the From Dusk til Dawn reference. By the way, did anybody see Mark's betryal coming?**

Hey man, just sayin', this is a really great story you've got goin'   
here. Loved the From Dusk Till Dawn tie in in #4. One question: do you   
have any characters in mind you're going to do in future fanfic's? This   
Sansker one is awesome, and There are a few other characters in the   
Spawn Universe that could use a little of your touch. Namely, Angela.   
Thanks for your time, and keep writin' them stories!   
Nickodemus 

**Thank you for the compliments, and I'm glad you're getting a kick out of the stories. I was hoping every one would catch on to the From Dusk til Dawn tie in, and it looks like it worked. These stories are actually just a little part of a much larger picture, namely the Shattered Image fan fiction site http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Orion/2160/index.html**   
** The guy that runs that site wrote a timeline that the writers try to stick to, and in his timeline, Angela was killed by Spawn. The thing is, the guy that wrote the timeline seems to have disappeared from the internet, and if he doesn't return soon, I'm going to toss his timeline and use any of the characters I want. I've been tossing around a lot of ideas for what I might want to write once I'm finished with John Sansker, but I'll just have to wait and see which one fleshes out the best.**   
** Thank you for taking the time to write, letters from people who read the stories are what keeps me writing them. Thanks again, Brian Campo**   


* * *

  
Well, that's another issue, thanks for taking the time to read it. As always, if you liked this story, you might like my others, check them out at my site, [Bad Monkey Comics!!!][6]   
If you have any comments or curse words, e-mail me at [bcampo@hotmail.com][1] I welcome all comments and criticisms, but ask if you are going to tell me I suck, tell me why I suck (yeah, that sounded funny to me too.)   
By the way, I will probably print any letters I get next issue, so if you don't want yours printed, let me know.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


   [1]: mailto:bcampo@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/icffa/dragonifshome.html
   [3]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/icffa/dragon9.html
   [4]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/icffa/dragon10.html
   [5]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/icffa/dragon11.html
   [6]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo



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